


under me you, so quite new

by flimsy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Breathplay, D/s, Dom/sub, Dominance, Friends to Lovers, Kink Negotiation, Kneeling, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Power Play, Relationship Negotiation, Rimming, Spanking, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flimsy/pseuds/flimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam knows what Louis needs, even when Louis doesn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	under me you, so quite new

There is an underlying oscillation to everything Louis does; a hard to grasp energy that reaches out and draws you in and holds you tightly. Liam remembers being intimidated when they first met, not wanting to get pulled along. He’d wanted to grasp Louis and set him straight because he didn’t quite understand him; he couldn’t work out what this high-voltage current coursing through everything Louis did was, didn’t understand the mood changes and the arbitrary flicker between quiet Louis and loud Louis, between the Louis that needed constant physical contact and the Louis that needed his space more than anything else at times. 

Liam’s different now. Now, he thinks, he understands.

A noise from the couch where Harry and Louis are sprawled makes Liam look up. Louis meets his eyes and then looks back at Harry. "Don't be a _wuss_ ," he says. He catches a handful of Harry's hair and tugs until Harry pulls a face and bats at his arm but doesn't pull away. Liam frowns a little, watching the exchange with his brows furrowed. 

"I'd really rather not," Harry says. He finally catches Louis' fingers and pries them off his hair, wincing. 

Liam considers intervening; if he doesn't, Harry might actually end up sticking his bum out the window just like Louis told him to and Liam isn't sure if that would be considered good press or bad press - he'd rather not risk it either way. They don’t need a scandal just before the end of the tour. 

Louis looks at him as if he knows what’s going on in Liam’s head, grinning, and nudges Harry with his naked foot. 

"Wimp, wimp, wimpy wimp," he sing-songs at Harry, but keeps his eyes trained on Liam. He sits up, eyes bright with a challenge that Liam finds hard to ignore. He swallows dryly, throat suddenly going tight. Louis has been fidgety for a few days now, trying to cause mayhem or pick a fight. It’s how he always gets when they go too long with the same routine.

"Come _on_ ," Louis says again and Harry's face falters a bit, his resignation obvious. He sighs and Liam hesitates and then gets off his spot in the big chair in the corner and bounces on Harry, wrestling him down in an attempt to diffuse the situation. 

He ignores Louis’ loud “Hey!”, sliding his hands up to tickle Harry's side, laughing with him, until Harry is wheezing and kicking his legs, face red. 

"Get off me," Harry manages, giggling, and Liam pulls away and falls onto the sofa between Louis and Harry, grinning and feeling out of breath.

"How about some food? I think we still have some instant noodles.” Liam sits up, leaving one hand on Harry's calf, squeezing gently while he continues. "Maybe we could wake Niall and Zayn up, too. Have dinner together or something?" 

"Food's a brilliant idea," Harry agrees, rubbing his belly. He pushes himself up, shakes his hair into his face and then rearranges it, smiling at the both of them. He wanders off to the kitchenette in the front of the bus, leaving behind a tangible silence.

Liam turns to look at Louis who’s staring at him, pouting. The look on his face makes something inside Liam’s chest twist a bit, and he really shouldn’t be pleased and shouldn’t consider this a win of any sort but he can’t quite help himself.

"C'mon, Lou," he says. He climbs to his feet and smoothes out his t-shirt, before holding his hand out for Louis to grab and pull himself up. Louis just glares at him. 

"What?" Liam asks and smiles, trying to ignore the urge to grab Louis' wrist and make him get up. 

"You're a spoilsport," Louis says grumpily and crosses his arms. He looks disappointed, like Liam stole his toy and maybe he sort of did.

He stares at Louis for a moment, then takes a step back before his instincts can take over. "Should we keep some food for you for later?"

Louis purses his lips and looks away, then gets up and waltzes off in the direction of the bunks. Liam closes his eyes, making an effort to breathe deeply and not run after him, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Noodles, he thinks, noodles and coke and maybe they can play cards after until Louis has calmed down a little, and then everything will be back to order.

*

Harry is talking - a generic reply about the progression of their music from their first album to their second - and Liam is trying hard to nod along and seem agreeable and interested because the light over his camera is telling him that he’s on air right now. It’s hard to stay focused when Louis is on the sofa behind Liam with his hands on Liam’s neck, tickling him and pulling at the short hair at the back of Liam’s head.

“Liam, what do you think?” the host asks and Liam automatically nods his head and says, “I basically agree with what Harry just said-” A pinch and he winces and looks up to see Louis grinning at him in the big monitor that shows all of them; his smile is wide and mischievous and Liam clears his throat and focuses back on his camera.

“- we’ve certainly changed a bit, but we’re still the same One Direction. I don’t think our fans will be disappointed.” He smiles and the audience cheers, whoops, and Louis pinches him again. Liam hisses, but keeps still, waits until the interviewer focuses on Niall elaborating on their musical progression. He leans back and reaches up to slap at Louis’ hand. When Louis’ fingers keep teasing, he sighs and hunches, giving up.

“What’s going on over there, boys?” the host asks with a smile on her face. “It seems Louis over here is full of mischief-”

Liam smiles back and shrugs. “Just the usual shenanigans, Erica,” he says and then catches Louis’ fingers in his own again, holding on, and Louis scoffs, making a futile attempt to pull away.

Liam shakes his head and tries to relax, knowing there's nothing he can while they're still on camera. He keeps a grip on Louis’ hand until they finish the interview and the cameras are turned off and when he allows Louis to pull away again, Louis jabs his shoulder and intentionally climbs over him, almost kicking Liam in the face before strutting off stage, followed by Niall who latches onto him, laughing and whispering to him, their heads bent together closely. 

Liam looks down at his hands and then gets up. He smiles at the host and says, "He's a bit of a handful, I'm sorry for that." She shakes her head, clearly amused, and Liam thanks her for the interview and catches up with Louis, pinching his waist.

He walks on ahead, evading when Louis vengefully tries to pinch him back and climbs into the back of the car, squeezing between Harry and Niall. “I'm knackered," he says, yawning. Louis and Zayn climb into the middle seats and start watching something on Zayn's phone, laughing, and Liam closes his eyes. When they get back to the hotel he'll go to the gym and work out until his muscles ache and his head is fuzzy and he’s too tired to think. He’ll work out until he no longer feels this inane buzzing inside of him that makes him want to find the weak spot on Louis' wrist and press his thumb in until Louis is quiet.

As if on cue Louis gets up from his seat and climbs into the back of the car, shooing Niall away to sit next to Liam. Liam watches him through half-closed eyes, wincing only slightly when Louis almost steps on his foot.

"You're a terrible bore today, Leemo," he says and hooks their elbows, leaning his body against Liam's. "Are you alright?" He smiles up at Liam, eyes wide, and Liam nods.

"D'you want to go to the gym with me later on?" he finds himself saying and Louis makes an agreeable noise. "Yup, maybe." He sprawls out in his seat, sighing. 

"Hey," Harry says from next to Liam. "I wanna come, too."

Liam falters for a moment and then makes himself smile. "Alright, Styles," he says. "If you can keep up with us."

Harry half-grins at him, but before he can say anything, Louis leans forward, his hand on Liam's knee, and says, "He's a big boy, all grown up now." 

Harry rolls his eyes and Liam exhales sharply through his nose, ready to reprimand him, but Harry just laughs and Louis grins back good-naturedly. His hand pulls away from Liam's thigh and finds the back of Liam's head instead, rubbing, and Liam closes his eyes and allows himself to relax again. He'll listen to music and run until his thighs give out, he thinks. 

Louis' nails scrape over his neck and Liam bites his lip, suppressing a shiver, fingers itching.

*

Liam lets himself sleep later than usual the next day and wakes up with the sheets wrapped tightly around his legs, chest and neck sticky with sweat. He feels heavy even though he caught enough sleep, having gone to bed right after dinner, and he faintly remembers his dream, about last year and his ex-girlfriend and heat and their bodies entwined and it's left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

He turns onto his side, breathing deeply, and closes his eyes again, trying to sort through cluttered thoughts and memories. He’s exhausted and wired at the same time, and he tries to pretend for a moment that he doesn’t know why, that this itch he’s been feeling for a while now is just an illusion and will go away on its own. 

Groaning, he shifts onto his back, rubbing his face, and tries think of something to ease the insistent nagging in the back of his head, edging him on; he’s almost succeeded when suddenly the door to his room flies open. Liam sits up, all at once fully awake, to see Louis sneaking in and trying to quietly close the door. 

“Oh.” Louis pulls a disappointed face when he meets Liam’s eyes. “I thought you’d still be asleep. I wanted to wake you up.”

Liam smiles at him and shakes his head. “A bit of a loud entrance for that. How’d you get in anyway?”

“Paul gave me a key,” Louis says. The bed dips and Louis crawls closer and settles next to Liam. He sits against the headboard and stretches out a bit, then grins at Liam and wiggles under the blanket, sticking his cold hands against Liam’s warm skin. 

“Hey!” Liam laughs and catches Louis’ wrists, but lets go again to put his arm around Louis’ shoulders instead and squeeze, yawning. “Worst wake-up committee ever.”

“No, no,” Louis says and presses closer. He’s cold everywhere, naked feet pressed against Liam’s calves, but Liam can feel him warming up a little. 

“Isn’t this nice?” Louis puts his head on Liam’s shoulder and looks up at him, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“What?” Liam asks and shakes his head. “Monkey hugs? Monkey hugs are nice, I suppose.” He lets his head fall back, feeling another rush of tiredness as his body relaxes. 

“No, don’t you dare go back to sleep, Li,” Louis says into his ear. “I’ve got things planned for today. I want to go to the seaside.” 

Liam smiles before he can stop himself; he hasn’t been to the seaside in far too long. They haven’t had a day off in far too long and he was planning to spend this one reorganising his suitcase and ringing his mum and buying a few presents for his sisters, but he likes Louis’ idea. Louis pokes his leg with his toe and Liam looks down at him. “How are we going to get there?” he asks.

“Car,” Louis says. “I’ve organised us a van so we can all fit. I put Niall in charge of putting together a picnic. Here’s hoping he doesn’t gobble it down before he gets it back to us.” 

Liam snorts and then finally nods his head. “Alright,” he says. “You seem to have sorted everything out.” 

“Of course I have,” Louis replies indignantly and pokes Liam again. He’s perfectly warmed up now, comfortably pressed against Liam’s side. Liam takes a slow breath and then sits up completely, withdrawing his arm from around Louis’ shoulder. 

Louis sprawls against the pillows, hair looking soft. “Leaving me already? But I just got here.” He grins, obviously just teasing, but it still takes almost all Liam’s got to turn around and climb out of bed. 

“Sorry, darling,” he says mockingly. Louis throws a pillow at him and Liam ducks into the bathroom. He has a cold shower to get rid of the sudden rush of adrenaline, and returns to the room a few minutes later in boxer shorts, rubbing his head dry with a towel. Louis is gone and Liam’s sheets are in a mess on the floor. Liam sighs, tidies up, and then gets dressed. 

There’s a text from Harry on his phone telling him to meet them in the lobby in ten minutes and Liam hurries to get ready, rushing downstairs when he’s done. He’s greeted by Louis smiling and waving. 

“You’re _early_!” he calls out, mocking, and Liam laughs. He bumps fists with Zayn, wraps his arm around Niall’s neck and smiles at Harry. 

“Are we ready to go then?” Louis asks, bouncing on his heels for a moment; he claps his hands, before stuffing them into the pockets of his bleached, rolled up jeans. He meets Liam’s eyes with a little smile and then takes a step back, batting his lashes. 

Liam shivers, a flash of memory from his dream cutting through his mind - his ex-girlfriend on her knees, shoulders hunched, looking up at him with the exact look that Louis just gave him. He grunts and pulls away from Niall to walk ahead. 

Their van - simple, black and unnoticeable - is waiting for them in the underground car park. Liam furrows his brows and gets into the passenger’s seat, fastening his seat belt while the others get in, Louis in front of the steering wheel. 

“You think this will work?” Liam says, pointing at the tinted windows. 

“Best chance,” Louis replies and shrugs. He starts the engine and starts pulling out of the garage. “Paul said he’ll be waiting for us when we get there. It’ll be fun!” He cheers and Niall joins in, and a moment later, Harry and Zayn do, too, and Liam laughs and finds himself whooping along. 

They arrive at the beach an half hour later; Paul chose a resort beach and Liam is pleasantly surprised that there’s no shrieking girls, only old ladies in huge sun hats and men in their fifties with skin the texture of old leather.

They have lunch on a blanket close to the water, and while the others run off afterwards, Liam, unlike himself, falls asleep, curled up with a blanket and some music, and is woken up to shrieking from the water. The elderly lady in the chair next to Liam’s is sitting up and glancing at Liam over her book. 

“You seem to be the most reasonable one of the troupe,” she says, shakes her head and goes back to reading. Liam blinks himself awake; May is too cold for swimming, even in the Pacific, but it seems it’s not too cold for wrestling in the muddy sand with your shoes off. 

Louis is on top of Harry, trying to tickle him, while Zayn is attempting to pull him off with both arms wrapped around his chest, laughing as Louis yells something loud and unintelligible to Liam. Niall wanders circles around them, looking uncertain, and Louis gets buried under Zayn’s body, flailing but still laughing. It’s only a moment until Zayn lets go and flops onto his back, arching his head back to grin at Liam and wave. Liam waves back slowly, eyes still focused on Louis who gets up and brushes the sand off his trousers, poking Zayn’s side with his foot. 

“That was unfair play,” Louis says loudly. “We’re going to bury you in sand as punishment.” He looks up and notices Liam watching. “Liam, come help!” 

He kicks a bit of sand in Zayn’s direction and then takes off in a sprint when Harry moves to get up. Harry doesn’t follow after him, though. He helps Zayn up and Louis stops, almost falling over from the momentum. 

Liam frowns, heart picking up a little at that wild look on Louis’ face, his free laugh and the challenge in his eyes. He’s seen it before and a part of him responds to it on instinct. He wants to get up and chase Louis down the beach until Louis is out of breath or until Liam's caught up with him, until he can grab a hold of him and feel his racing pulse under his fingers and make him stop running. 

He climbs up and Louis cheers and comes running toward him; Liam catches him around the waist, surprised, and then lets go to fall into the sand with the others, laughing. He gets an arm around Niall's middle and drags him down too, then _oofs_ when Louis jumps on top of them, wiggling until he's wedged between Liam and Harry, kicking his feet until they make more room for him. 

"That was fun," he says. Liam stretches out, arm brushing against Louis' side and closes his eyes, listening to the sounds of the sea laced with Louis' voice. "We should do something," Louis says. "We could find a boat?" 

Liam hums in agreement even when Harry says, "We should ask Paul first, though."

“Paul will tell us _no_ ,” Louis reasons. Liam feels him move, feels the tension radiate from him, but doesn’t react to it. If he starts getting involved now, he might not be able to stop.

“Liam,” Louis says suddenly. “What do you think? Should we do it?”

Liam crooks his eyes open and finds Louis staring at him wide-eyed. His face is soft and open, and Liam breathes deeply and then shrugs. “I’d love to go on a boat,” he finally says. He imagines the open sea and sailing, and then frowns. "We've got an interview at seven, though." 

Louis pulls a face and then gets up, kicking sand all over everyone, Niall sputtering and rubbing his face. 

“Let’s go,” Liam says and gets up; he helps Harry to his feet, and they follow after Louis, who turns and looks at them over his shoulder. “You’re all party poopers,” he calls out, but is laughing anyway. 

“I would’ve done it,” Zayn says quietly next to Liam, shrugging a little, bottom lip sticking out. Liam rubs his neck and bites his tongue and keeps walking, throat a little tight.

*

Liam knows that the signals Louis is sending are almost unnoticeable, minute and subtle. To Liam, though, they read like neon writing - the way Louis holds his body, his little almost coy smiles when he gets caught doing something he shouldn’t, his need for physical contact and the way he asks for people to play with him. The more Liam watches him, the more he wants to do something about it. He knows what Louis needs, even when Louis doesn't.

They’re at a radio station in New York a few days later. There’s only a week of touring left and they’re all wired and impatient. Even Liam can feel the restlessness in his bones, edging him on, making him a bit foolish and reckless. 

It’s their third interview that day and all Liam wants to do go is go back to their hotel and put on some music and eat crisps and watch the telly, maybe find something fun to do. He doesn’t want to smile anymore and answer the same questions over and over again because the DJs are too shit to do their job properly and do some research. 

He still smiles for the girl taking their pictures and then politely answers every question that the others refuse to acknowledge, his fingers curling against his thighs; Louis is hunched over, drumming a rhythm on the table.

“- and that’s how it happened,” Liam finishes. He smiles at the radio host and leans back. Louis looks up at him, grinning, and then leans up into the microphone and makes a parrot-sound. Zayn breaks out into a laugh, hiding it behind his hand, and Louis giggles again. His hand finds Liam’s knee and he mewls into the microphone, keeping his eyes trained on Liam. 

“Boys, boys,” the host says over Niall’s subsequent laughter, but nobody except Liam really hears him. Louis grins and barks and then mewls again, then croaks and blubbers and snickers like a horse. 

“I have a couple more questions for you!” the host tries again and Louis wheezes into the mic. Liam’s hand moves and snatches it away before he can stop himself. He barks into it like a dog once, staring Louis down. Louis stares back at him, in awe at first, then pouting and picking at his fingers when Liam shakes his head and doesn’t move to continue the game. He gives Louis a long look and Louis averts his eyes. His face is a little red, which makes Liam’s pulse pick up. 

He makes a joke about the animal noises and then answers a few more questions until the show ends and they’re allowed to leave. He can barely hear himself over the manic rush of blood in his ears and the adrenaline biting at his nerve endings until he’s buzzing, tingling all over. 

Louis starts bickering with Harry on the drive back to the hotel, clearly angry, snapping at him and making off-side comments, and Liam crosses his arms and tries to ignore him, heart racing. He knows he shouldn’t do anything - really, shouldn’t, because it’s a bloody terrible idea - but when they arrive at the hotel, fighting their way through a crowd of girls and paparazzi, Liam’s hand finds Louis’ neck on instinct. He presses his thumb in slightly and feels Louis’ body go taut at first, then pliant and agreeable all at once.

Louis doesn’t turn and Liam steers him past everyone else into the lift, jaw set in a tight line, his stomach tight with excitement and a tinge of nervousness. The silence in the cabin engulfs them and Liam closes his eyes and listens to the rhythm of Louis’ breathing, a soft staccato. If there ever was a point at which Liam could’ve turned back and stopped, it’s long passed. 

“Liam?” Louis asks when the lift stops and Liam guides him toward his hotel room. 

“Be quiet,” Liam orders; he’s surprised by how rough his own voice sounds, and then surprised again when he realises how much he’s been wanting this, how much he’s been needing this, to be in control like this again and to be in control over Louis. 

He fishes his keycard from his pocket and unlocks the door to his room, turning back to check if anyone’s there to see them. The hall is empty and Liam reaches down and grabs Louis’ right wrist, pushing Louis inside. It’s dark in here, with the curtains drawn, and Liam closes the door and doesn’t turn on the light. 

“What’s going on-” Louis starts, straining against Liam’s grip, but Liam squeezes his neck and fits both his wrists in one hand, then presses him face first against the wall next to the door. He’d planned something else in the back of his head, maybe the floor, the bed, the table, but Louis’ struggling has made him feel urgent and willing to compromise. 

“Don’t talk,” he says. 

Louis gasps and Liam squeezes his wrists until he knows it hurts. He puts his entire weight into holding Louis against the wall, going by feeling rather than sight, and Louis squirms futilely and makes a noise that has Liam’s mind reeling. He tightens his grip on Louis’ neck and forces his cheek against the wall, while Louis tries to tug his arms free. Liam pulls at his wrists, knowing that Louis’ shoulders must be starting to sting, and Louis stops, whining quietly.  

“Stay still,” he says, trying to even out his breathing. A switch has been flicked in his head and he he can’t turn it off now, can’t turn back; he’s missed this, the feeling of another body under him, and he’s missed the thrill of finding someone _new_ and finding out how they work and where to push to make them his. 

“You were asking for this,” he grits out. His eyes are slowly getting used to the darkness and can see Louis’ mouth open and close in a silent response. “It’s okay,” he adds, pressing his body more tightly against Louis’ until Louis gasps. “I’ve got you.” 

Louis’ eyes flutter shut and he makes another noise, strains against Liam’s grip again. It’s not a surprise - he’s exactly the way Liam expected him to be. Needy but defiant, having to be pushed a little bit. 

Liam rubs his thumb over the side of Louis’ neck, up and down, pushing in with only the slightest pressure. “I’ve got you,” he repeats. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.” 

Louis whimpers and suddenly leans into the touch, going pliant against Liam. He arches against Liam, breath speeding up, fast and rough suddenly. Liam shifts his weight and eliminates any space that may have been left between them, and Louis’ breathing first hitches and then evens out into a steady, calm rhythm. Liam squeezes his neck once more and moves his hand around to Louis’ chest and finds his heartbeat through his t-shirt. It’s slow, powerful, and pulls Liam in until he’s a little dazed, too, almost in sync with Louis. 

It makes him dizzy, still, that he’s the one who caused this, that he made Louis all quiet and calm and _yielding_. He wonders distantly why it’s taken him so long to get to this point, why he was so hesitant when this so obviously is exactly what he and Louis both needed. The heat radiating from Louis’ body is tangible. Liam can _feel_ him, can feel every fibre, can feel him calm down and it rides over Liam, too, in a wave of endorphins. 

Louis’ breathing starts filling Liam’s ears and he presses his forehead against Louis’ neck, listening, and allows himself to get lost until time is out of joint and he feels like he should let go. When he pulls away and releases Louis’ wrists, Louis just slumps against him, almost making him stagger from the weight. 

“Can you walk?” Liam asks. Louis nods in the half-light, and Liam wraps his arm around his middle to help him to the bed where they curl up together. Liam leans over and switches on the lamp only to catch Louis wincing when he turns onto his side. 

He scoots closer to Liam, head against his chest, and Liam lies back and holds him close. It may be too early to tell but Liam thinks Louis’ wrists are going to bruise. He reaches down and catches one in his hand, rubbing gently. Louis inhales sharply, but doesn’t pull away, allowing Liam to hold his wrist. 

“Does it hurt?” Liam asks and Louis nods, but doesn’t reply, gnawing at his lip. His eyes are wide and Liam remembers with a start that he’s told him not to speak. Liam would doubt that this is the first time Louis has ever done this if it weren’t for the look on his face. It stirs something in Liam and he reaches out to touch his cheek soothingly. “It’s okay,” he says, “talk to me.”

Louis exhales, nodding again. “Liam,” he finally says, sounding a little broken. Liam cradles him closer and suppresses the urge to kiss the top of his head. He’s coming down now, and Louis’ body is small, pressed against his own, and warm, and Liam closes his eyes. Once, he tells himself, just once because he _had_ to and it was _good_. He tries not to think about how this is just the tip of the iceberg of things he wants to do to Louis. 

“You needed this,” he manages finally. Louis nods against his shoulder. 

“I did?” he mumbles into Liam’s shirt. Liam sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and doesn’t say anything, mind suddenly racing.

*

Louis is gone when Liam wakes up; his joints are aching from the angle he’s slept in and there’s marks from his belt on his stomach. Oddly, it’s as if he can still feel Louis body under his fingers, and he sits up and shakes his head to clear it.

Yesterday was such a _long_ day that it feels almost distant, all the interviews and rushing from one place to the next had Liam tense and on edge. He needed this, he thinks, or they both would’ve snapped. It was only once and they’ll be back in London in six days and he can find something to occupy himself with then, to get rid of the nagging in the back of his head. 

His phone says it’s early - too early for anyone to really be awake just yet - so he has a long shower and feels a bit better afterwards. Downstairs in the breakfast room, he finds Zayn curled up in a booth with a book and a large cup of tea. 

“Yo,” Liam says, sitting down with his bacon, eggs and toast from the breakfast buffet. “You’re up early.”

Zayn scrunches up his face and shrugs, then takes a sip from his tea. “Couldn’t sleep,” he says. “I was talking to Perrie? But then she had to go and I couldn’t fall asleep after.”

“That sucks, I’m sorry.” Liam takes a sip of his tea and digs into his eggs, then looks up to see Zayn grinning at him curiously. 

“Did you- you didn’t take a girl to your room yesterday, did you?” he asks incredulously and Liam chokes a bit.

“What?” he asks, coughing.

“You look so. Relaxed,” Zayn elaborates with a smirk. “Like you had a good shag.” 

Liam huffs out a breath, mind flashing back to last night, and then shakes his head. “I haven’t- I didn’t.” He takes another sip of tea and shrugs. “I just got a good night’s sleep, that’s all.” 

Zayn gives him a look and Liam shrugs. It’s true, though; he does feel more relaxed than he’s felt in weeks. No lines were crossed, he tells himself, and nothing has changed between them. His phone buzzes on the table and Zayn moves to grab it, but Liam is faster.

“Girl?” Zayn teases and Liam unlocks the screen. It’s a text from Louis that reads _just drew a prick on styles face & now it wont come off????_. He laughs and shakes his head, then puts his phone away. 

“What?” Zayn says. He snatches a bit of bacon from Liam’s plate and, munching, looks at Liam curiously. 

“Nothing,” Liam insists, feeling almost embarrassed. He shrugs and finishes his plate, then leans back as he drinks his tea. One time was enough, he tells himself, to give them both what they needed and ease the tension of the tour. His phone buzzes again. _liam!!! answer me!!_. Liam bites down on the tip of his tongue and turns the screen off.

“Clingy gal?” Zayn quips. Liam grunts and gets up for another plate of food, ignoring Zayn.

*

Louis is only worse when Liam gets to see him in person after breakfast. He must’ve had a few cans of Redbull and maybe even some energy bars because he’s virtually _vibrating_ when they find him and the others in Zayn’s hotel room. There’s still the faint outline of a penis on Harry’s cheek and Harry shrugs, sighing at Liam’s inquisitive look.

“Lou scrubbed it off with nail polish remover,” he says and frowns. “I wonder if my skin will rot off now?”

“Definitely,” Niall says absently from the sofa and strums a few chords on his guitar; it sounds like this isn’t the first time Harry has voiced that concern. 

“Don’t be silly,” Louis says. “It’s not gonna rot off. Girls use it all the time.” He’s stood in the bathroom, fussing with his hair, but glances at Liam in the mirror when he notices him watching. “And if it _does_ we’ll just all do it and be a zombie boy band. The first of our kind.” 

“Leave your hair be,” Zayn says. “Lou’s not going to be happy if you mess it up again.” He curls up in Niall’s bed and starts texting on his phone, eyes tired. 

“You leave _me_ be,” Louis snaps but stops messing about with the strand between his fingers and goes to sit on the arm of the couch; he’s in jeans and a T-shirt again today, hair fluffed up nicely for their interview. Liam very suddenly remembers the way it felt against his fingers when he had his hand on Louis’ neck, short and soft. He sighs and sits down next to Harry to inspect his cheek in order to distract himself. 

"I'm sure Lou will be able to cover that up," he says. 

Louis makes a noise from the side and when Liam looks at him, he flicks Liam's nose with his ring finger. Liam jerks away with a hiss and catches Louis' hand in his own before he can cause any more damage. 

" _Ow_ ," he says and Louis' face breaks into a grin. Liam lets go of his hand and then grabs his other when Louis goes for his nipples, trying to pinch him. "The interview is in half an hour?" he asks, still holding onto Louis' hand. 

"Yes," Harry replies and rubs at his cheek. Liam smiles and lets go of Louis hand when Louis tugs, even though he wants to keep his fingers fitted around Louis' wrist and feel the pulse there.

There's a glint in Louis' eyes when he gets up and turns on his heels to look at Liam, a mischievous spark that tells Liam that the day is not going to be an easy one.

*

Louis goes _mental_ during their interview. He's restless in the minutes before it, barely able to keep still where he's perched on the little sofa in the interview room. Liam is going through the questionnaire once more with their PR advisor, but he can't quite focus, eyes flicking up to where Louis is fiddling first with his mic and then with Harry's hair, then his jumper and his own hair.

The line of his neck arches beautifully, almost an invitation that Liam chooses to ignore to find a spot on the sofa next to Niall, going through a set of standard replies in his head. They make it four minutes into the interview before Louis falls off the sofa, giggling at one of his own jokes. They manage another three questions until Louis makes Harry switch seats and fits his body against Liam's. He interrupts Liam answering a question, pinches his thigh and then takes his jumper off, complaining loudly about the heat in the studio. 

Liam keeps his eyes trained on the interviewer, heart beating fast; he smiles at Louis’ jokes but keeps his hands on his knees and replies calmly. 

Louis continues on the way back to the hotel, rolling down the window of the van to yell things out onto the street, giggles into Harry’s shoulder when Paul exasperatedly tells him to stop, and catches Liam’s eyes in the rearview mirror like he’s waiting for Liam to do _something_. 

And Liam wants to, feels the urge to edge him on and play with him, but instead he smiles and closes his eyes until they’re back at the hotel. He runs for an hour and a half before their show to get rid of any excess energy, runs until his joints ache and his body is screaming for him to stop and then naps until Paul wakes him up with a phone call. He feels just as tired as before and almost regrets that sprint until Louis drapes himself all over Paul in the car on the way to the venue and then runs off as soon as they arrive. 

Liam is glad he’s so tired he could sleep for a full twelve hours because if he weren’t he knows he’d be chasing Louis down, catching him and taking him somewhere nobody will see them. It’s like he’s awakened something in the both of them; now that Louis knows what he needs he’s blatantly asking for it, and Liam finds it hard to resist now that he’s had Louis like this, had him yielding.

He takes a deep breath, eyes closed. Six more days, he tells himself, four more shows, five interviews, and then they’ll be on a plane home. He keeps this as a mantra in his head throughout the show, plays along with Louis’ antics and jokes around with him but doesn’t lose control even once. 

He goes to bed long before the others, getting woken up only once by a text from Louis asking him to come over to Harry’s room which he ignores in favour of sleep. 

The next day finds Liam with another interview, answering questions while Louis does his best to distract them all. Liam pushes through it like he did the day before. He indulges Louis because it requires less effort than resistance, and then runs for an hour before the show and falls into bed exhausted, yet itching to touch Louis. 

Maybe it’s that, this constant nagging in the back of his head that makes him snap the next morning during breakfast. Louis, a pile of bacon and eggs and pancakes on his plate, starts swapping food items around everyone’s plates as though he’s thinking that nobody is watching and they’ll be surprised to find something new before them. 

He keeps looking up to check if Liam is watching and Liam does his best to ignore him, typing away on his phone even when Louis steals a waffle from his place. 

“Liam,” he says, “Liam. Payne.” 

“Hold on,” Liam grunts and taps Twitter on his phone, scrolling through the feed until Louis nudges his shin with his foot. 

“You’re just looking at Twitter,” Louis says and then grabs the phone from his hands before Liam can stop him. “Engage us,” he says and waves the phone. “Don’t be a bloody bore.” 

Liam blinks at him, adrenaline suddenly surging. He gets up, smoothing his t-shirt out. His heart is beating fast, and he didn’t plan for this at all but the words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “Louis,” he says. “Come on, let’s go.” 

“What?” Louis asks and looks up, head tilted, still holding Liam’s phone like a trophy. 

“Now,” Liam emphasises, grabs his phone from Louis’ hand to pocket it and ignores the weird look Harry throws him. 

“Okay,” Louis says too quickly, shrugging at the others while he gets up. He takes an extra moment to ruffle Harry’s hair, almost like he’s stalling. Liam reaches out to take his arm, walking him out into the hallway and back to his room where he unlocks the door and pushes Louis inside. He doesn’t try to pull away when Liam slides his hand up to Louis’ neck and squeezes and the intensity of the look in his eyes catches Liam off guard. 

He tries to read it, finds that it’s half-defiant, half-expectant, a little anxious, and walks Louis further into the room, mind racing and body acting almost on its own. 

“Kneel,” he says. He squeezes Louis’ neck again and Louis falls onto his knees, looking up, shoulders tensing for a moment. 

“I don’t know anything,” he blurts out; his voice breaks at the end and he shifts to sit back against his heels. 

Liam nods, rubs his shoulder with this thumb and then lets go. He moves away and leans against the table next to the bed, watching. “I know. It’s okay.” 

Kneeling on the floor like that, Louis looks small, smaller than he actually is; Liam pushes his hands into his pockets and breathes deeply, keeping his voice even so as to not unsettle Louis further and to keep himself collected, too. “You’re jittery,” he explains. “And on edge and you’re driving everybody mad, including me.” Louis visibly swallows and holds Liam’s gaze. “I want you to count for me,” Liam continues. “Until you’ve calmed down.” 

Louis visibly hesitates for a moment and rubs his hands over his thighs. “Until I’m calm?” he asks .

Liam nods and says, “Yes. Can you do that for me?” He moves away from the table and sits in one of the big chairs to watch, pleased when Louis stays on his knees. His gaze follows Liam and finally he inclines his head and looks down, hair falling into his eyes, and Liam holds his breath and tries not to think about the things that would make this even better. 

“Yes,” Louis says softly. He licks his lips and then starts, “One, two, three-” He continues, shifting once in awhile, but getting less and less twitchy with every passing minute. Liam sits up, elbows on his knees and hands folded against his chin, his heart thrumming loudly; Louis is gorgeous, face flushed with colour and head bent, voice breaking a little at the end of each count like he’s afraid to do it wrong. 

He starts gripping his knees when he’s somewhere close to a five hundred, and when he hits the one thousand mark, his shoulders hunched, trembling, Liam feels something tug at him, the urge to take care of Louis overwhelming. He gets up and touches Louis’ head, stroking his hair gently. 

“You can stop now,” he says gently. Louis lets out a long breath followed by a tiny pained noise and Liam reaches down and pulls him up. “You did good,” he continues and Louis whimpers quietly. He drops his head against Liam’s shoulder, breathing calmly, and wraps his arms around Liam’s waist to hold on. 

“I’m dizzy,” he mumbles and Liam pulls him closer. It’s only a few steps to the bed but with Louis wrapped all around him, unable to walk, it feels like a mile. He sits them down carefully and Louis lays back against the duvet, rubbing at his face and hair. 

“You’ve got to tell me things, Liam,” he says and tugs at Liam’s sleeve until Liam lies down next to him. “I don’t understand.” He sounds a bit tired and Liam ignores the question, overwhelmed by the reality of what just happened, and Louis doesn’t ask again. Liam lays down on his side, softly stroking Louis’ shoulder, neck and hair, massaging the tension out of his muscles. When he touches Louis’ pulse at his throat it’s slow and steady like he’s falling asleep. 

Maybe later he’ll explain, he thinks, fingers tangled in Louis’ fringe. Maybe later when he doesn’t feel like he needs to touch all of Louis, needs to get to know every bit of him.

*

Louis finds Liam in his hotel room that night after the show; he looks tired and is in pyjamas already, hair a little damp. He stands in the door for a moment when Liam opens it, shifting from one foot to the other, a small sheepish smile playing around his lips, looking up at Liam like he’s waiting for an invitation.

“Come in,” Liam finally says, a little dumbstruck, and steps aside. Louis ducks in and immediately curls up on the sofa, flicking on the telly, feet tucked under him. 

Liam should be less surprised - Louis has a habit of showing up at bedtime when he’s too tired to distract himself and he’s homesick and his mum or his sisters aren’t available on the phone. Liam remembers talking him out of bad spots and ordering biscuits from room service for him and listening to him ramble until he falls asleep, and it really shouldn’t be odd, but now that he’s had Louis on his knees and calm and good for him, it’s all very different. 

“Mum is out with her friends,” Louis explains. Liam watches for a moment and then makes himself walk across the room. He sits at the other end of the couch and pulls his legs up. Louis looks at him expectantly and Liam swallows. 

“Did you need something?” he asks.

Louis nods and looks down at his hands, then back up at Liam. “Yes,” he says. “I suppose.” 

Liam hesitates for a moment. He should get Louis a beer and have him talk about it and then let him fall asleep on the couch. He should ignore the look in Louis’ eyes. “Come here,” he says instead and unfolds his legs. 

Louis licks his lips and crosses the space between them on his hands and knees. “What’re you gonna do?” he asks when he’s reached Liam. 

Liam touches Louis’ neck, his throat, squeezing gently just to feel Louis breathe. “I’ll put you on your back,” he says. “And you’re not going to move.” 

Louis swallows, throat working against Liam’s hand. “Okay.” 

Liam feels a rush of relief and excitement; he pushes, fingers digging in, and Louis lies back down and allows Liam to crawl over him. His throat flutters with every breath and Liam squeezes again, knees on either side of Louis’ whose hand comes up for a moment to grip Liam’s arm like he’s scared. 

“It’s okay,” Liam reassures him, careful to keep his voice even. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Okay,” Louis says again. He lets go of Liam’s arm and rests his hands at his sides, staring up, eyes very blue. 

“I’m going to choke you,” Liam explains; saying it out loud sends a shiver up his spine that borders on sexual arousal and he fights the feeling until it subsides, and continues, “But if you want me to stop, I will. If you tap my leg, I’ll stop. That’s our signal, okay?” 

Louis nods and _arches_ up against his hand like he can’t wait and Liam wets his lips and tries to stay calm. He rubs his palm over Louis’ throat and forces his head back a little, then presses down until he can feel it give. Louis makes a small sound, eyes fluttering shut, but doesn’t try to move away. Liam can feel him attempt to swallow, and he increases the pressure until Louis stops breathing. He gives it a few seconds, five, ten, twenty, and then releases again, allowing Louis to breathe. 

Louis gasps, but doesn't pull away, and Liam repeats, pressing his thumb down until Louis' eyes flutter shut, his lips slightly parted. He looks defenceless, open and vulnerable, and it makes Liam's throat go dry. He rubs his thumb in circles and then lets go again. Louis makes a small sound, shivers tangibly and Liam fits his other hand over Louis’ heart where his pulse is still racing. 

"Hey," he says. He trails his hand over Louis' chest and then puts pressure on his throat once again. Louis' arm twitches for a moment, but he doesn't move to tap Liam’s leg, so Liam continues, squeezing Louis' throat until his heart begins pounding in his chest like a jackhammer. He constrains Louis’ breathing again, his hand over Louis’ heartbeat, feeling it. 

It slows down when he lets go the next time, a powerful steady pulse vibrating through Louis’ bones and skin. Liam repeats, once, twice, three times, until the pink colour on Louis' face has spread down over his neck and is vanishing beneath the scoop of his T-shirt, and he's breathing slowly, one long intake and exhale every few seconds. 

Liam does it one last time just to feel him and then moves his hand to stroke Louis’ hair, and Louis opens his eyes, pupils dilated. He flutters them shut again and leans into Liam's touch like a cat and Liam gathers him up in his arms, pulling Louis into his lap. He curls up there, head on Liam's shoulder, his face hidden against Liam’s neck, breathing evenly, almost like he’s gone under. Liam strokes his back gently to keep their connection intact.

He’s not usually aware of how much he’s grown in the past months, how much wider he’s become, because it’s so gradient and he just gets used to it, but he becomes oddly aware of the way Louis fits against him. He leans back against the armrest, pulling Louis with him until he’s lying on top of Liam with his eyes closed, his lashes dark against his cheeks. 

Liam smiles and threads his fingers through Louis' hair, scraping the back of his neck with his nails, a reminder to Louis that he’s here. He feels content like this, a bone-deep satisfaction spreading through his limbs. "Are you going to sleep, babe?" he asks. Louis just grunts and nods, his breath tickling Liam's collarbone. 

"Okay," Liam says, shifting until they're fully lying down. He'll hurt tomorrow if they go to sleep like this, but he can't bring himself to move, can't find it in his heart to tell Louis to get up, so he wraps his arms around him, stroking his back soothingly and until he feels him drift off.

*

Louis is mollified the next day; he's all smiles and polite answers during interviews. He plays cards with Niall in the afternoon and has a nap afterward and doesn’t make Paul chase him anywhere.

Liam watches him, feeling pleased and almost proud, and allows Louis to sit next to him on the way to the venue where Louis sits perfectly still when Lou does his hair before the show. He's almost freakishly serene and if Liam weren't the cause of it he'd be worried about Louis because it’s _off_. 

Liam can feel it as well; he’s calmer and less on edge, like a weight has been lifted off him. He was aware how much he's missed the feeling of being in control over someone like that, of owning another heartbeat and setting a pace, but he didn’t expect to feel so much less agitated. 

He goes to bed that night, worn from the day, and dreams about Louis' body curled next to his own, warm and pliant, fitting against Liam's side perfectly. He wakes up with his cock hard against his stomach and his hand down his pants, wrapped around the base, mind full of images of Louis on his knees, Louis naked, Louis clinging to him, panting and begging. 

Liam inhales heavily through his nose and weighs his options in his head but his hand makes the choice for him before he’s done thinking it through. He desperately tries not to think about Louis, hand moving fast, cock already slick, but finds it impossible with his mind still reeling from his dream. He comes, almost shouting, body arching off the bed, before he curls back down, heart still racing, and pulls his hand from his pants to wipe it on his T-shirt and rub his face with the other. 

"Fuck," he says out loud and winces, not used to hearing himself swear, then rolls off the bed to have a cold shower and clear his mind. He didn’t expect for his body to react like this, to make it sexual. Maybe it was silly, because aspect of himself has never _not_ been sexual, but somehow he’d thought he’d be better at keeping it separate. He sighs, pressing his head against the shower wall. There’s four days left, and he can do this, he tells himself. 

He finds the others in Harry’s room, breakfast dishes piled up on the table, the TV running on mute. Louis is in the process of defending his bagel from Harry and when Liam enters he looks up, forgetting his food, smiling, eyes wide. 

“Hey, Li,” he says and pops a piece of bacon in his mouth, the grease smearing his lips. Liam presses his lips together and tries to smile back, eyes flicking down to Louis’ mouth. He has a flashback from his dream and then from the other night: Louis on his back, clinging, breathing hard. He blinks it away and drops into the chair opposite Louis’. 

“You’re all up early,” he says, grabbing a bottle of orange juice to keep his hands occupied. 

“You slept _late_ ,” Niall says around a mouthful. “We’ve been up for _hours_.”

“He’s lying,” Harry pipes up. “It’s not been more than like, fifteen minutes.” He pokes Louis, who squeaks and looks at Liam, licks his fingers and then grins like he knows what he’s doing.

“And Harry has been trying to steal my food this entire time, but _you_ can have some of it, Leemo,” he says and pushes his plate across the table, nudging it again when it comes to a halt in front of Liam. “It’s really quite good.” He looks very soft, content and happy, and it makes Liam want to take him somewhere and find that sweet spot on his neck again, but instead he grabs half of Louis’ bagel and some bacon, nodding as he takes a bite. 

“Thank,” he says with his mouth full.

“I’ll get you tea,” Louis continues and pushes up, dancing over to the trolley by the door, feet bare, glancing back at Liam over his shoulder, smiling. “Milk and sugar, yes?”

Liam hums and nods, leaning back while Louis serves him tea and then shoos away Niall to sit next to Liam, their thighs now touching. 

Liam knows he probably shouldn’t _let_ him do all this, but then again Liam isn’t _making_ him do it either. And Louis falls into it so easily that all Liam can think of is what else Louis might be willing to do for him. 

The day continues like the one before. Louis is all laughs and gentle jokes; he waits up for Liam wherever they go and walks next to him, sticking close as if he needs to stay in contact, their hands brushing as they walk. Liam doesn’t want to go along with it because he knows that this won’t last and is bound to end one way or another, and that he _can’t_ take it further than it’s already gone without crossing lines that will be hard to take back. But Louis’ compliant smile is exactly what Liam’s been needing, and he finds himself guiding Louis through hallways by his neck, gently squeezing, and finds himself giving small requests that Louis fills without question. 

He runs another five miles after the show and returns to his hotel room tired and hot from the shower only to find Louis curled up on the little sofa, playing with the telly, switching channels at random. 

“Hey?” Liam asks and Louis looks up, smiling, then stretches and falls back against the sofa. 

“Hey,” he echoes and Liam steps closer, frowning slightly; he drops his gear on the chair, eyes skidding up Louis’ bare feet, legs, belly barely curving beneath the flimsy cotton of his T-shirt, and to his face, hair falling softly into his forehead. 

“What’s up?” It’s another metre to the sofa and Liam crosses the distance and drops down on the cushions, pulling Louis’ feet into his lap before he can think about it, acting almost on instinct. 

Louis shrugs and scoots closer, dropping the remote on the table. “I was bored. I’ve nicked some beer from Paul and I brought Oreos from my minibar.” He gestures at the table and Liam tugs his bottom lip between his teeth to keep himself from smiling. 

“Let’s watch a film,” Louis continues; Liam nods. He leans over and grabs the remote, switching to a random action film that drones away in the background because Louis suddenly shifts and moulds his body against Liam’s side, yawning, his head on Liam’s shoulder, nose pressed against Liam’s neck. 

He’s very warm, solid and soft, which are all things that Liam knew before, but suddenly they all mean different things. Louis starts drawing circles with his fingers on Liam’s chest and Liam swallows and tries to relax, easing his hand down Louis’ back, stroking gently. 

“You okay, Tommo?” he asks quietly, and Louis hums in reply. 

“Mhm,” he says against Liam’s neck. “Just comfy. You’re comfortable.” 

“That’s good.” Liam draws his knee up and sits back until they’re snuggled into the corner of the sofa, his arm resting on Louis’ waist where his T-shirt has pushed up just the tiniest bit to reveal skin that’s teasing the tips of Liam’s fingers. 

Louis makes another tiny noise, huddles closer until he’s almost lying on top of Liam, hand splayed out on Liam’s chest. He presses down, small fingers digging in, and Liam looks down to find Louis looking up at him. 

“I feel comfortable with you,” Louis says as if he’s emphasising something, trying to make a point, his voice quiet and calm. “I trust you.”

Liam holds his breath and doesn’t say anything for a moment because he doesn’t quite know what to say; he knows what he _wants_ to say, but he also knows what he _shouldn’t_ be saying. “Yeah?” is all he manages after a long fifteen seconds. 

“Mh.” Louis draws a circle and then an eight, a snake, possibly, then something with edges. “I do, I really do.” Liam reaches down and stops his hand, shivering, holds his fingers tightly so Louis can’t move anymore and squeezes a bit. 

“Solid grip,” Louis jokes, but his voice is quiet and a little raw. He flicks his tongue out, pink against his lips, and Liam can’t help but stare, holding his breath; Louis continues, sounding hesitant. “I’m- this is normal, right? It’s normal that I like this, isn’t it?” It's a genuine question that bores into Liam like a hot knife. 

He lets go of Louis' hand and cups his cheek, stroking it with his thumb. He's got a light stubble, rough against the pad of Liam's finger, but Liam likes it. "Yeah," he says finally. "It's normal. Anything you like is normal, Lou." 

Louis stares back up at him, eyes wide. He inhales, exhales, then captures Liam's hand in his own, gently tugging until Liam's palm slides down to fit around his neck, his thumb against Louis' throat. His breath has sped up a little, face beginning to blush; Liam presses his thumb down, watching Louis' face closely, then rubs a circle with his thumb. Louis stays quiet, but parts his lips, inviting, asking, and Liam swallows tightly and nods. This is not Louis demanding anything - he’s asking. 

"This?" Liam gently puts pressure on Louis' throat again, just enough for him to feel it. Louis' eyes flutter shut and he tilts his head back prettily, going pliant. Liam cradles him closer until his hand is resting on the small of his back, holding him in place. He’s soft and curled up, and makes another small, happy noise. 

"S'good?" he asks and Louis grunts; trying to press even closer like he wants to climb on top of Liam. Liam keeps the pressure up, enough for Louis to feel it as he breathes, but not too much, not enough to actually choke him or leave bruises like the last time. This is something different because it's about comfort and for Louis, Liam assumes, it's about exploration, too. 

He relieves the pressure again after a moment, watching the flutter of Louis' lashes, and then repeats. Like this, they fall into each other easily. Liam feels warm and comfortable, but clear at the same time, focusing on the sharp outline of Louis' chin, his Cupid's bow, the way his thigh is drawn up, pressing against Liam’s. He gasps quietly every time Liam moves his thumb a little and after a few moments opens his eyes to look up at Liam, pupils huge and black, lips parted. It’s like an invitation and Liam wants to take him up on it so much that it makes his chest ache for it. Instead he softens his grip for a moment, then presses down again, drawing a low mewl from Louis’ throat. Again and again and Louis moans and rocks against him, cheeks red. 

He’s now tangibly hard through his pyjama bottoms; Liam never would’ve thought he’d find the feeling of another guy’s dick against his hip arousing, simply because he always assumed that he was very much straight, but it sends a shiver up his spine and makes him curl his fingers more tightly around Louis’ neck. 

“You like that?” he hears himself say and Louis whimpers, his body twitching, breath coming in tiny bursts. Liam hums in response and gently squeezes again, alternating between light pressure and barely any pressure at all, staring. 

He wants to lean in and lick Louis’ bottom lip and kiss into his mouth and see if he’ll be obedient then, too. He wants to pull him closer and wrap his arms around him and just hold him, but then Louis would know that he’s getting hard too and then Liam would have to acknowledge what’s happening. 

So he doesn’t move until he feels it’s time to ease off when Louis’ breath changes from frantic to calmer, eyes closing. He’s still hard, but he’s stopped moving, his fingers rubbing circles on Liam’s upper arm. 

“Do you feel better, Lou?” Liam asks and slides his hand up to Louis’ cheek to cup it, rubbing with his thumb just under Louis’ eye.

Louis makes a sound and nods, then belatedly blinks his eyes open and says, “Yeah.” 

“Good,” Liam replies. He sits Louis up against the back of the couch and, making sure his jogging bottoms are loose enough to hide his erection, climbs to his feet. “Let’s go to bed. We need to be up early tomorrow,” he says, reaching a hand out for Louis. 

He’s still curled up and staring tiredly, yet his erection is very visible underneath his pyjamas. Liam wonders for a split moment if he’s going to resist going to bed and try to leave to take care of himself, but Louis just nods and gets up, a little wobbly on his feet. Liam leads him to the bed; he’s hit by a rush of pride when Louis doesn’t attempted to weasel his way out and is following along without complaint. 

He climbs under the covers, making room for Louis who buries close and falls asleep in a matter of moments, his head against Liam’s shoulder, back rising and falling. Liam watches him for a while, mind racing, and then reaches his arm around his shoulders to pull him closer.

*

Louis’ standard pre-departure behaviour includes foul moods and restlessness, brooding in a corner because he hates transatlantic flights. But this time, even two days before their departure, Louis is showing no signs of moodiness. Liam watches him and allows to Louis curl up with him on the sofa in his hotel room after their last show when they’re all watching a film and having a few beers. Louis pulls a blanket over both of them and traces Liam’s hand with his fingers, staring at the screen, face calm.

Liam likes this; he likes loud and funny and challenging Louis, too, because he’s wild and entertaining and so full of the spark that makes him so special, but this is nice in an entirely different way because _this_ Louis is just for Liam and nobody else.

He asks Louis to get him a drink in the middle of a film, which Louis does obediently once, and then again, without questioning Liam. He sleeps in Liam’s bed when Liam asks him to, pressed tightly into the crook of Liam’s shoulder, and when he’s getting dressed the next morning Liam casually tells him to put on the acid washed jeans, which Louis does, not interrupting his humming interpretation of an Adele song. 

Later that day, on their way back to the hotel after yet another interview, Liam realises that Louis has spent the past few minutes staring at him, eyes wide and bottom lip drawn between his teeth. He’s sitting on the edge of his seat, hands flat on his knees, like he’s waiting to jump up as soon as the car stops. Liam has seen that look before, excitement and urgency and something raw that makes his spine _tingle_ , not only with excitement, but with arousal and need. 

The look in Louis’ eyes tells Liam that he’d follow him without hesitation and drop to his knees right where Liam puts him and. Liam stops himself, swallowing tightly, and looks away. His heart is racing and he suddenly remembers the texture of Louis’ hair and skin, remembers all the things Louis was the most responsive to. 

It hits him that holding Louis down and controlling him isn’t enough anymore. He wants more, he wants all the things that come along with it. Liam looks away, feeling guilty because he wants Louis in a way that Louis never formally agreed to.

He ducks out of the car as soon as they arrive, avoiding the onslaught of fans and paparazzi, and hits the gym. There’s a note from Louis taped to his hotel door when he gets back - _hey li i’m down in the lobby ring me? x_ \- and Liam reads it over twice and then stuffs it into the back pocket of his jeans. 

Louis sticks close before their show that night, trying to keep up some sort of physical contact until Liam feels unnerved from it, wound nearly as tightly as Louis must feel. Louis drapes himself over Liam's back when Lou tries to get Liam’s stage make-up done and he lingers close, bumping into Liam when they’re changing into their outfits.

Liam sets his mouth in a deliberately straight line, acknowledging him with nothing but a smile and a pat on the back on the way up to the stage. It continues like that: Louis disregards personal space along with their choreography and keeps slinking over, grinning a little, like he’s waiting for Liam to do something. He’s got that look in his eyes again, like he wants to be chased, and now that he seems to know where it’s going, he appears even more eager. 

Liam pushes through it; he ignores the images playing in his head and the way Louis is breathing down his neck and into his ear and tugging at his sleeves and the hem of his t-shirt. He goes with the banter and the jokes and with Louis trying to get him to slow dance centre stage, but shakes him off once they’re done and backstage. 

Security ushers them out through the back and into two cars waiting for them outside; Liam goes with Harry, dozing off with his temple against the window, sleeping until they’re back at the hotel. He wants to sleep more, bones and muscles aching with the strain of the day, but what he finds when he’s managed to make it through the lobby to his room is Louis on his sofa, playing with his phone. 

“Lou,” Liam says and drops his bag on the bed. Louis leans over the back of the couch, staring at him expectantly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Hey.” He sits up a bit more, back curved, and Liam swallows tightly and looks down at his bag, fishing for his phone. He finds it, checks his emails simply to keep himself occupied, and then flops down on his bed. 

“Hey,” he echoes belatedly, feeling all the strength drain from his limbs. “I’m tired.”

Louis is silent for a good ten seconds and Liam turns onto his side to look at his face, watching his brows furrow. 

“I could-” Louis starts and then shrugs, looking down, smiling like he’s feeling foolish. Liam wants to get up and yank his head back by his hair and make him finish that sentence because he wants whatever Louis _could_ , but he really can’t because he shouldn't. 

He shakes his head and smiles tightly. “I think I should just go to bed.” 

Louis keeps staring, opens and closes his mouth. He looks down, lashes fanning out against his cheeks, and says. “I thought you would. You know. We would.” He shrugs again and doesn’t continue, but he meets Liam’s eyes like he knows Liam will understand. 

It’s that look again that sets something loose in Liam, but he swallows it down and shakes his head. “This shouldn’t be becoming a regular thing, Tommo,” he hears himself say. 

Louis’ face freezes and then falls, features going from surprise to embarrassment. He pushes himself off the sofa with unnecessary force, brows furrowed, and snaps, “A regular thing?” 

Liam rubs his face, disregarding the urge to get up and pull Louis close. “Yes, just. I don’t want to mess things up.” 

Louis huffs out a breath, clearly angry now, and kicks at the sofa. “Mess things up? This is- _nothing_ happened anyway!” 

“Okay,” Liam says slowly; he sits up and rubs his head, feeling tired and tense because he doesn’t know how to deal with a situation like this. He’s never had to deal with this kind of ambiguity because it’s never been this complicated. 

“Oh fuck you, you twat,” Louis grinds out when Liam can't find anything to say. He rushes off, slamming the door. For a moment, Liam considers catching up with him and giving in, but. They’ll be going back to London tomorrow and it’ll only get _more_ complicated if he keeps this up. It’s better this way, he tells himself. 

He catches a few hours of sleep until a very, very early morning interview, wrapped around a pillow that’s not nearly as soft or warm as Louis’ body. Falling asleep, Liam finds himself toying with the thought of calling Louis over, fingers hovering over his phone, but he stuffs it under his pillow and forces his body and mind to sleep.

*

Louis is quiet during their interview, picking at his fingers, sucking at the inside of his cheek, his brows furrowed in a way that tells Liam that he's likely to go off any second now. Liam watches him play with his phone throughout their entire segment, itching to take it away and make Louis pay attention but decides that the momentary satisfaction is not worth throwing caution in the wind for.

It’s not until their drive back that Louis really does snap; he's been in an even fouler mood since they finished the interview. It's tiring to answer the same questions over and over, and Liam _gets_ it, but he still manages to control himself. 

Louis doesn't. He snaps at Paul and then curls up in the backseat with his earphones in, legs drawn up, drumming a rhythm on his knee with his fingers. Liam has a clear view in the rear mirror, sees how tense his shoulders are and the way his chest is rising with deep breaths like he's trying to calm himself. 

Harry, sitting next to him, continues chatting with Niall, and Louis' gaze flickers over once, twice, three times, eyes narrowing. Liam knows what's coming, he can feel it like a gush of cold air raising goosepimples up the length of his spine and the fine hairs at the back of his neck. 

Louis isn't looking at Liam, probably unaware that he's being watched, and Liam sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, swallowing tightly around a knot in his throat. Two, he counts in his head, one-

"Would you two idiots stop your chattering?" Louis snaps, kicking his legs against the driver’s seat. "Haven't you done enough talking for one day?" His face is red, flushed from his cheeks down to his neck, ears pink with anger. He curls his hand into a fist and Harry, looking incredulous, shakes his head at him. 

"What," he says and tries for a smile because that's Harry's go-to reaction to almost anything. 

"Oh, shut your stupid face," Louis hisses and glares; he finally looks up and catches Liam looking at him in the mirror, but it doesn't seem to distract him. "I can't hear my music," he continues and turns away again, eyes flicking up for a moment to meet Liam's. 

Niall barks out a laugh like he's in shock and then, shaking his head, curls up next to Zayn, who’s asleep against the window. Harry purses his lips, but doesn’t say anything either. Louis stares at Liam for another second and Liam bites the inside of his cheek to keep silent until Louis focuses on his phone again. 

It’s quiet in the car for a while, and Liam packs and re-packs his suitcase in his head to make sure that he really hasn't forgotten anything and to distract himself, and almost misses it when Louis yanks his headphones from his ears again, lips in a tight line. 

Liam has zoned out of the conversation a while ago; when he turns around, Harry is talking about wanting a little get together in London with a few of his friends, a house warming party of sorts. He seems excited, smiling as he talks, playing with his wristband, twisting it between his fingers. 

Louis narrows his eyes at them again, before snapping, “Your _friends_?” He huffs, shaking his head, and Liam twists around in his seat, giving Louis a look, quietly urging him to shut up. 

Harry smiles and shrugs again. “Yes, Nick and Alexa and Cara, it’ll be nice. I haven’t seen them in ages.”

“You better invite a few paparazzi, then,” Louis says, “otherwise chances are your _friends_ won’t show.” He rubs his thumb over his bottom lip, tilting his brows in challenge, and Liam shakes his head at him, curling his hand into a fist in his lap, counting down from ten. 

“They’re not-” Harry starts and shakes his head. “They’re not like that, Lou.” This is an ongoing issue and the tone in Harry’s voice tells him that Harry is tired of arguing over it.

“Yes, they are,” Louis insists. “They _are_ , all they want is to be papped with you. They couldn’t give a shit about you if you weren’t who you are.” His face pulls into an angry mask and Harry stares, eyes wide. “They’re not real friends, Styles, and you’re turning into one of them.” 

“Fuck you,” Harry finally snaps. 

Louis opens his mouth to respond, but Liam’s reached the end of his countdown and has been repeating _one, one, one-_ in his head over and over and it’s not helping to calm him down anymore. “Enough, Louis,” he says, “that’s quite enough.” 

“Liam-” Louis starts again, but Liam tilts his chin up and gives him a hard look. 

“I said it’s enough,” he repeats, “so keep your mouth shut until we’re at the hotel.” 

Louis blinks, swallows, throat visibly working, and then sinks back into the car seat, burying into his hoodie, while Niall and Harry give Liam an incredulous look which Liam refuses to acknowledge. He exchanges a shrug with Paul, who doesn’t comment, and rests his head against the backrest of his seat, heart starting to pound faster as his body belatedly floods with adrenaline. 

It’s seven more minutes until they’re back at the hotel, driving into the underground car park through a back entrance. Liam checks his watch, his eyes following the course of second hand for a few moments; they’ve got a little over an hour before they need to leave for the airport, a cozy buffer, and Liam is already packed and ready to go. 

He doesn't give himself any more time to think this through, just focuses on his breathing until they arrive at the hotel where he stays behind while the others climb out of the car and follow Paul to the lift. Louis dallies behind, looking over his shoulder and ducking his head when Liam catches up with him. He falls into step and Liam finds his waist with his hand, pushing gently. 

They take the second lift up and Liam tightens his grip, feeling Louis’ waist give under his hand, soft and yielding. Swallowing dryly, he waits until they arrive at their floor and pulls Louis into his room. Louis follows without protest, but after Liam closes the door and lets go of him, he can tell that Louis is so tense he's almost shaking. 

“Are you packed?” Liam asks, shrugging off his jacket and sitting on the sofa, training his voice to be calm. 

Louis nods slowly, tilting his head. He leans against the door, hands behind his back, looking small. “Yes?”

“Fully packed? As in, ready to go?” Liam elaborates. If he’s doing this, he won’t allow it to make them miss their flight. There’s also a part of him wishing for an easy way out, Louis to not be ready. There is, however, a bigger part of him that’s buzzing for this, impatient. 

Louis nods again. “Yes, fully packed and ready to go,” he says. 

“Good.” Liam rubs his hand over his head and takes a deep breath. “What happened in the car, Lou?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” Louis answers quickly, looking down. He shifts a little, feet pressed together. “Nothing happened in the car.” 

Liam examines him for a moment and then gets up. “Come here.” Louis takes hesitant step, but makes his way over to the couch, arms crossed. 

“Kneel,” Liam continues and Louis sinks to his knees, facing toward Liam, looking up, his hands flat on his thighs. It’s the way Liam showed him the first time, but it’s not what Liam wants now. “No, no-” He gently prods Louis’ thigh with his foot. “Lean over against the couch, bum up.” 

Louis stares up and blushes all red down his cheeks, blinking rapidly; he seems to hesitate again but then turns around on his knees and positions himself with his elbows on the couch, his arse up, hiding against his arms like he’s embarrassed. 

Liam involuntarily takes a step closer, clenching his hand at his side, his mouth dry; he’s getting hard, need pooling in his stomach, and the rational part of his brain seems defunct.

“I’m going to take off your jeans,” he explains, grabbing the cushioned footstool to sit behind Louis, pushing up his T-shirt and trailing his hand over the waistband of his trousers, watching the back of his head. “And your pants, too.” His own voice sounds rough and unfamiliar in his ears. “I need you to tell me now if you feel uncomfortable with that.” 

He’s almost surprised when Louis makes a broken noise in the back of his throat and shakes his head, then arches a little, face still hidden against his arms, shoulders trembling. Liam hesitates for a moment, then reaches around Louis' stomach to unfasten his jeans and pull them down over his arse along with his underwear. He’s tanned there, too, but there’s a visible shift of skin tone between the back of his thighs, strong and full and gorgeous, and the round swell of his arse. It curves beautifully into the small of his back where two tight dimples lead into the arch of his spine which is rising and sinking with his quick breath. 

Liam wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and inhales slowly, then slides his hand up Louis’ arse. He wants to squeeze - to knead the flesh in his hand and see it yield - but he doesn’t because he doesn’t trust himself to hold back anymore. 

He steadies Louis’ hips with his free hand instead and pulls back to smack the flat of his palm against Louis’ arse cheek. Louis yelps and jerks, fingers digging into the cushions, and Liam repeats. Louis makes another sound, hoarser, twitching in Liam’s grip, and buries further against his arms. Liam exhales, throat tight, and does it again, over and over until Louis’ skin is hot and burning under his hand, blooming red, and Louis is sobbing out little rasping cries, trembling. 

Liam trails his hands down his sides and breathes deeply, closes his eyes for a moment to feel Louis under his hands. When he opens them again Louis is squirming and moaning and Liam switches sides, rubbing his hand over Louis’ sore skin and smacks his other cheek with his free hand. He squeezes his arse and pulls his cheeks apart just a little bit, eyes following his hands, unable to hold back. 

Louis sobs out another moan and pushes back against Liam, and Liam distractedly smacks his arse again, staring. Louis is hard, balls heavy between his legs, and Liam groans under his breath. His dick strains against the inseam of his jeans, his head spinning from the pressure. 

“You like this?” he asks before he can stop himself, smacking Louis again. 

“Nh-” Louis replies, “yes-” Liam does it again, pulls him open more with his thumbs because he can’t _not_ , because he wants to see it all, and Louis’ hole is pink and tight and twitches when Liam palms over his sore skin. 

Louis groans and wiggles against Liam's hands, parting his thighs until the jeans around his knees strain, until he’s all spread open and laid out, offering himself up, panting and hard from the spanking. 

Liam stares, heart racing, because this isn’t at all how he’d thought this would turn out. He wants to rub his thumb against Louis’ hole and press in and see how much he can take. He wants to find Louis’ pulse in his neck and suck it while he fucks him. 

The thought hits him like a brick and he stumbles to his feet, breathing hard. “Go get cleaned up in the bathroom,” he grits out. 

Louis pulls himself up slowly and looks over his shoulder, eyes wide. His gaze flicks down to Liam’s crotch where Liam knows his erection must be very visible even through the thick fabric of his jeans. 

“Go on,” he urges and takes a step back, while Louis gets up and pulls his jeans back over the red welts on his arse. Liam wishes he could follow him into the bathroom and take care of him, make sure he won’t be in too much pain later on. Instead he says again, “Bathroom, Lou. Put some body lotion on it, too.”

Louis turns around, leaving his flies unfastened, staring at Liam, his cheeks flushed. “And you?” he asks, canting his head. His cock is very hard, leaving a visibly wet spot in his grey boxer briefs. 

Liam feels his throat work and forces himself to look away. “Go,” he presses and grits his teeth. This time Louis goes; he gets into the bathroom and locks it, and Liam can hear him shedding his clothes through the feeble door. His feet carry him over until he can press his ear against it, and he closes his eyes to focus. 

There’s a guttural moan and then another, the clatter of toiletries. Liam imagines Louis clinging to the sink, wanking himself off, with his thighs spread just a little bit, just enough for Liam to see. 

“Fuck,” he grits out and stumbles into the toilet, gathering a handful of toilet paper and ripping his jeans open with his other hand. There’s another sound from behind the bathroom wall, and Liam wraps his hand around his cock and drops his forehead against the wall. He rubs his hand over the slick head of his cock once, twice, and then starts stroking himself, moaning. A thump startles him shortly, but the pressure in his balls urges him on, and the next time Louis makes a sound it’s much closer, like he, too, is leaning against the wall now. He’s loud, little tiny _oh_ s and _ah_ s, and Liam strokes himself in rhythm with Louis' sounds until his spine wells up with heat and he spills into the toilet paper in his hand, moaning loudly. 

A corresponding sob sounds from the other room, choked, and then goes quiet. Liam closes his eyes and imagines Louis’ face, his lip between caught his teeth, his body shaking, and then counts down from one-hundred-and-twenty, listening to the sounds of Louis washing up, putting on clothes, the clack of the bathroom door and then the hotel room door closing. 

He cleans up and goes to wash his hands in the bathroom; the complimentary little bottles of shampoo and soap are on the floor, and the bottle of body lotion is unscrewed. Liam stares at it, feeling his stomach tighten, wishing it could have been him to do this for Louis, thinking that maybe it should have.

*

Liam ducks into the chemists’ at the airport after they’ve registered their luggage; he waits in the queue, tapping away on his phone, hood up, hoping none of the other customers will recognise him, and returns to the group just in time for their boarding to begin.

Louis is walking a bit funny; he was sitting gingerly in the car, too, sucking on his bottom lip and obviously holding his breath at times. Now he's not talking to Liam, quietly playing with his phone. He looks up through his fringe, hair looking just as soft as it was only a few hours earlier, and Liam wants to touch him, pull him in and hold him close. His hand finds the small of Louis' back, but Louis ducks away. He wiggles in between Niall and Paul, and Liam sighs, keeping quiet as they board. 

It's another ten minutes until they're in their seats; Louis curls up with a blanket on his side, while Liam chooses the seat across the aisle, shooting him a worried glance. The seats are big, big enough to accommodate two as he knows from experience, and he wants to crawl into Louis' and cuddle him close. Three weeks ago he still might have and even now it would hardly raise suspicion, but the way Louis is glaring at him, curled up, suggests that Liam should rather stick to his own seat. 

He pops his earphones in and closes his eyes, catching his breath for a moment when the plane starts rolling off onto the runway; they will be in the air for a good seven hours and Liam dreads the flight and the waiting and the not being able to fall asleep, and he knows that Louis hates it, too, but it must be even more uncomfortable for him now. He was red, almost raw, when Liam sent him off to clean up, and Liam knows he must hurt. 

He shifts a little and glances at Louis again, scanning his posture, the way he sits so carefully, and feels a pinch of satisfaction that Louis must still be feeling him. He sighs, frustrated with himself, and looks away, turning the volume on his phone up, drowning out the sounds of the plane taking off. 

He drifts off after a while only to wake up to shuffling in the aisle; it’s Louis who’s climbed out of his seat and is trying to shake off his blanket, looking tired, hair messy and standing up. He moves tenderly, wincing now and then, and Liam sits up and blinks himself awake. Louis vanishes in the direction of the loo and Liam stares for a moment and then follows after him into the lavatory section, closing the curtains behind them. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, catching Louis’ elbow before he can duck into one of the toilets. It’s dark here, only illuminated by a little green exit sign now that the curtains are all closed. Liam tugs Louis closer and takes in his scent, his heart speeding up a little. 

“I’ve got to have a piss, Payno,” Louis mumbles and ineffectively tries to moves his arm out of Liam’s grip. Liam lets him go but fits his hand over his waist instead, not wanting to let go of him. 

“You okay?” he asks and Louis yawns, shaking his head. “I’m tired and I’ve got to piss. Seriously-” 

Liam swallows and catches his eyes, then shakes his head; he’s suddenly nervous because he hasn’t really thought this through at all and spontaneity has never been his strong suit. “No, I mean- you hurt, don’t you?”

Louis glares and then suddenly pulls away with far more force than before. Liam drops his hand and digs into his pocket, retrieving the little tub of soothing gel he purchased at the chemists’ just before take off. He can feel his fingers tremble a little and closes his hand around it, trying to calm himself. 

"Here," he says carefully, "this will help."

Louis makes a sound between a laugh and a snort, but steps closer again. His small body fits against Liam’s like a puzzle piece and he arches into Liam’s touch when Liam rubs his hand over the small of his back. 

“You _left_ me on my own,” Louis hisses, “and yes, I bloody hurt. I can hardly sit, you fucking twat.” He doesn’t move away, though, just presses closer until Liam thinks he can almost feel his heartbeat, can feel the heat radiating off his body. 

Liam feels dizzy; it’s like they’re caught out of time here, because he hasn't got a clue for how long they’ve been in the air and he doesn't know when they’ll be touching ground again, and it makes him weightless, reckless.

“It should help with the pain,” he whispers, leaning down to touch his mouth against Louis’ ear, and presses the little container of gel into Louis’ hand. “It’ll numb it down a bit. But don’t expect any miracles.” 

Louis shivers against him and Liam pulls him closer until they’re fitted together, head to toe, Louis’ rapid breathing a shallow staccato against Liam’s neck. “I don’t mind,” Louis whispers back. He digs his fingers into Liam’s waist, then shoulder, almost clinging. “I like being able to feel where you’ve been.” He leans up and nips at Liam’s chin, and Liam can’t help but make a sound that catches in his throat and almost chokes him. 

“Lou-” he starts and breaks off when the curtain moves and one of the security guys walks through; Louis ducks into the loo and locks it.

*

Louis is still asleep when they touch down. Liam woke up an hour or so before the announcement and he feels groggy and tired, yet at the same time wound up. He’s too awake for how dark it is outside, but too tired to imagine staying up all night and the following day to skip jet lag.

Louis only wakes up when Paul shakes him; he looks lost, eyes puffy and small, cheeks red, hair sticking up. Liam watches him for a moment and then follows Paul into the gate, pulling the hood of his jumper over his head. The ground feels unfamiliar and strange under his feet, but Liam keeps walking. He doesn’t feel like talking, not to Paul, not to anyone, and buries deeper into his clothes, trying to make himself seem smaller.

In the back, Harry and Zayn are talking, laughing, but Liam doesn’t bother with turning around to look at them, mostly because Louis, too, is walking behind him and Liam feels on edge and unstable and isn’t certain of anything anymore. 

They’re greeted by an onslaught of fans behind the airport glass fronts as they make their way through customs and baggage claim and to the cars waiting for them. Liam forces himself to smile, waving and taking pictures and signing merch; Louis huddles close to Paul, looking irritated and unable to hide it. He’s the first to get into a car, not turning to look at Liam and Liam is almost thankful. Harry pulls Liam into a half-hug, squeezing him tightly, and Liam lets him go before saying goodbye to Niall and Zayn. 

Lulled by the heating and the hum of the engine, he drifts off until they’ve reached his flat and the driver shakes him awake gently. Liam grunts and stumbles out of the car, fumbling for his keys, while the driver - Liam can’t remember his name, he’s new, one of the London crew - gets his suitcases and helps him carry them up to his door and inside.

Liam falls asleep that night, curled up in fresh crisp bedclothes that smell like nothing at all, wishing for his bed to smell like Louis and wishing for Louis next to him, small and warm and pliant.

*

There’s a gigantic sign on the front door that reads _WELCOME HOME_ when Liam pulls up into the driveway of his parents’ house. He turns off the engine, smiling, and gets out of the car, shielding his face from the sun, then gathers his mum up in a hug, holding her close and hiding his face against her neck for a moment, bent down awkwardly. She squeezes his shoulders and pulls away, patting the side of his head affectionately.

“You got even bigger, Liam,” she says almost in awe, smiling, and Liam ducks his head and shakes it, then gets almost knocked over when his sisters fling themselves at him. He gets dragged inside, with people touching his shaved head and his father patting his back. There's tea and biscuits waiting, and they catch up with each other until Liam feels tired and worn and like he needs to lie down and listen to the silence for a while. 

Being back home is strange; the house, his room, seems smaller, and Liam feels like he doesn't quite fit into his bed anymore. He unpacks a few things, finds his charger and plugs in his phone which has been turned off since they touched down the day before. 

It charges for a while and Liam curls up in the striped blanket on his bed, face buried in his pillow, and then turns it on. There’s a message from their manager, which Liam ignores, and another one from his sister asking if he is on his way already (he was), and then there’s three calls and two texts from Louis, which is not something that Liam expected to find. 

He stares, feels his brows furrow and his stomach twist a little, and then opens them. 

The first one reads _hey ring me please, when are you coming back to london?_ and the second one _did you lose your phone you wanker?_. 

Liam gnaws on his bottom lip, then hits _Call_ , waiting for Louis to pick up. He knows Louis must be still awake, because Louis is always caught up in jet lag so much worse than Liam is. He remembers the first few times, coming back when their schedule didn't allow for them to come home and Louis stayed up all night, watching black and white films in his hotel room and keeping Liam awake too, as if he couldn't bear being the only one to be miserable the next day. 

Louis picks up after the third ring, grunting into the phone, but as expected doesn't sound like Liam just woke him up, rather like he's been lying on the sofa, watching telly and snacking and growing more and more lazy with every passing minute.

"Hey," Liam says. "What's up?" He doesn't want to answer the question from Louis' text right away, feeling tired and cautious. 

"Nothing much," Louis says. There's an audible shift of cushions, the creaking of a sofa and Liam smiles to himself, imagines Louis curled up with the phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear. "I was just-" Louis stops again. "Was your phone turned off or something?" 

Liam nods and hums. "Yeah," he replies. "I just turned it back on." He gives it another moment, then finally says, "I don't know when I'll be back to London exactly. Might be another week or so." They have to be back for rehearsals next week, and Liam had planned to be back sooner than that, just to catch up and have enough time to acclimatise, but now that he's here in the silence of his room, it suddenly seems foolish to leave this kind of peace behind for the loud rush of London. 

"Oh," Louis says. He clears his throat and Liam imagines his face, wishes he could actually see it, wanting to read his expression to guess what he’s really thinking. "Then maybe I could come visit," Louis says suddenly. 

"What?" Liam blurts out in surprise because for a moment he's not sure that what he heard is what Louis actually said. 

"To Wolverhampton," Louis elaborates. He sounds careful now, and Liam sits up, instincts alerted by the quiver in Louis' voice. "We could play a bit of football, hang out, and, you know," Louis continues. Another pause, and Liam finds himself holding his breath, unable to reply.

"Liam," Louis says, sounding urgent now. "Don't be a dick."

Liam closes his eyes and counts his heartbeats. He shakes his head and finally says, "I'm not, Tommo." He knows what Louis is asking for, but now that they're back and the heat of the American leg of their tour has passed, the logical part in Liam, the sensible one, is telling him to reel it in, squash the bud before it flowers. "Are you jet-lagged?" he asks to change the topic. 

"Yeah," Louis hums. "Really badly this time. I can't sleep at all." 

"Sleeping aid?" Liam asks. He picks at a loose thread on the duvet and closes his eyes, his heartbeat still echoing loudly in his ears. 

"Nah." Louis makes an unhappy, grunting noise, like the mere thought is ridiculous, and then continues, "I've been a bit on edge." He sounds raw for just a moment, and Liam feels his stomach twist with the need to be there, to feel Louis and make sure he is okay, but he doesn't say so. He bites his lip to keep quiet and taps his fingers against the mattress. 

"Itchy," Louis says. 

"Mhm," Liam says. "Me too. Just need a good night's sleep, and I think I'll be fine again. Coming down from tour is just really odd." He hesitates before finally saying, "Actually, I think I'm ready to try and catch some sleep now." This isn’t what he _wants_ ; he wants to stay on the phone with Louis for a bit longer and talk him through the exhaustion, but he’s allowed himself more than is rational and sensible as is. 

"Oh." Louis sounds disappointed and Liam is, too, stupidly and insensibly so. "Give me a ring?" Louis asks, voice small. "You were gone really quickly after we arrived."

"I was, I'm sorry,” Liam replies. “I was really tired and just wanted to get home quickly, but yeah, I will." He sits up and rubs his hand through his hair. "I'll ring you. I'm almost falling asleep right now," he continues. "I should lie down and sleep this jet lag off while I still can."

"Oh," Louis repeats, but doesn't say any more. 

"Goodnight, Lou," Liam starts carefully. "Good luck with falling asleep. Have some hot milk." He waits for a second for Louis to reply, but Louis stays quiet, so Liam hangs up. 

He stares at his phone for a long moment and then drops it back on his duffle bag. He's not tired anymore, he wants to get in his car and go back to London and find Louis, and it scares him that he does, that Louis' voice alone is enough to make him lose control like that.

*

Liam doesn't ring Louis; he spends time with his sisters and his mum. He paints Easter eggs and he helps his dad clean the barbecue grill and the shed and he goes through all his old things, reading dated love letters and finding clothes that he used to love in school. It's weird to realise so suddenly how much he's changed, from the moment he went on X-Factor for the first time to when he met Dani; he feels older now, more tired and careful.

He goes out with Andy and they’re soon flocked by girls with pretty faces, but Liam finds himself comparing each of them to Louis - the size of their waist, the sharpness of their smile, the way they move - and he almost wishes he had let Louis come to Wolverhampton. He gets a bit drunker than he planned and goes home with a girl with dark hair and full lips, who he fucks up against her bedroom door, with his hand around her throat, not even gripping, just letting it rest there uselessly. 

He wakes up in his own bed with no recollection of how he got home, but there’s a note in his pocket with a number scribbled on and a name that Liam can't make out anymore. He stares at it for a while, rubbing his face and fighting the uneasiness in his stomach, and then chucks it. 

Louis rings him that night when Liam feels almost like a normal person again and is getting ready to go out with his sister. He shrugs into his jacket and sits on the little bench outside their house and picks up the phone. 

"Hey," he says and when Louis doesn't respond, he continues, "How're you?" It’s reminiscent of the early awkwardness between them when Louis was loud and Liam didn’t quite know how to deal with him, and suddenly Liam is terrified that they’ll go back to that, eggshell-walking around each other to make sure no toes are being stepped on. 

Louis makes a frustrated noise before saying, “You didn’t ring me, you were supposed to ring me, Payne.” Then like an afterthought, he adds, “I thought we had a deal.” He follows up with a laugh, but it doesn’t sound genuine. 

Liam sighs, bites his lip and repeating meaningless words in his head, trying to put them together to form a sentence that makes sense, but eventually settles for a simple, “Sorry.” 

Louis grunts again and Liam suddenly has to think of the girl he fucked the night before and feels even more guilty. 

“Lou,” he starts again, “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a ring. I was occupied. Family affairs and stuff, and I guess I must’ve forgotten.” He could keep going, continue rambling and digging his own grave with a spoon, bit by bit. He wants to keep apologising but he knows he needs to stop before he starts saying things that are hard to take back and that would make everything even more complicated than it already is, before he loses even more control. 

“I just really wish we could’ve talked a bit more?” Louis explains. “You left right after-” Liam can almost hear the shrug in his voice; he imagines Louis sitting down with his legs drawn up, folded neatly into the corner of his sofa because that’s how he likes to sit when he’s on the phone. 

“Yeah, I suppose. I really shouldn’t have.” Liam clears his throat. He remembers the thrum of the plane’s engines beneath his feet, with Louis pressed tightly against him and his teeth grazing Liam’s chin. If it hadn’t been _Louis_ their flight wouldn’t have ended in them splitting up, and a big, irrational part of Liam still wishes he’d gone home with him and made sure he wasn’t too bruised, made sure he was putting on the right amount of ointment and that he was okay. A big irrational, part of Liam wishes he could’ve taken Louis home to leave new bruises with his mouth and teeth. 

He shakes his head at himself and says, “I’m sorry.” 

“I thought we were in this together.” Louis voice drops a bit at that, an odd, almost desperate shift that makes Liam’s chest ache. 

He gets up and walks around the house to sit on the garden bench in the back where he’s sure nobody can hear and rubs his face with his free hand before replying, “We were. I shouldn’t just have gone home and I apologise.” He means it and he wants to say more and make it sound like _more_ because it is, but forces himself to keep his voice calm and collected. 

"I really- I've been thinking a lot about what we did," Louis says. "I feel very comfortable with you, I told you that." A soft intake of breath. “I want to do it again, Li. I miss your hands.” He sounds earnest and willing, sharing his desires just like that, like he’s not afraid and like Liam has earned the right to know about them, and Liam swallows tightly and squeezes his eyes shut because he understands the kind of trust it takes to admit something like that and he understands how big of a deal it must be for Louis to admit this to him and to ask for it because Louis, above all things, wants to protect his weak spots. Now he’s baring himself open for Liam and Liam feels his control slip, heart banging in his chest.

“Look," he starts, the words coming slowly because he doesn’t want to say them. "We were on tour and we both needed an outlet. Like I’ve said before, I don't think this should become a regular thing." 

“What?” Louis swallows the ‘t’ like he doesn’t have enough air for it, and Liam can feel that, too, feels his lungs empty, chest tight.

“Now that we’re back it might just not be a good idea? We start recording again soon, Tommo. We should be reasonable about this.” He doesn’t mean that; what he wants is to get up and get in his car and drive to London. He wants to find Louis and feel his shape yield under his hands more than he’s wanted most other things in his life. 

"Liam.” Louis sounds like he's begging, like he's desperate. Liam is suddenly scared of how much this affects him because he’s not used to being so out of control over his own emotions. If they were face to face, he’d be in charge, he thinks. But if they were face to face, he'd also have Louis on his knees by now for trying to control the how and when.

"I can't," he says. His mind is more treacherous; it floods with images of Louis on his knees and Louis looking over his shoulder, submitting. He suddenly remembers Louis' cock and liking it and he remembers wanting to be inside him. "I really can't." 

"If you're afraid that I will like, think you're weird, Li, because you get hard when we, you know, do this," Louis starts, "then I promise I'm not thinking that. I would- I'd let you. I want to. You know I liked it." 

"I'm not going to talk about this," Liam snaps before he can stop himself. "My mum is calling for me, I've got to go."

"No, she's not," Louis says loudly, angrily. Liam pictures his face going red with it, cheeks pink. "Don't do this."

"Take care," Liam says. He hangs up before he can change his mind, before his body and instincts take over. His phone starts vibrating again a moment later, but Liam grits his teeth and pockets it, ignoring the two, three text messages lighting up the screen.

Louis makes him want to lose control, and Liam is scared of that.

*

_i don’t believe you_ the first text reads. _if you think ignoring this entire thing will make things less awkward you’re wrong_ is the second. The third one makes Liam’s hand curl into an angry fist.

 _i’ll go and find somebody else then_. 

He stares at it, wishing he’d seen it sooner so he could’ve rung Louis and stopped him because the text makes him scared that Louis will find somebody else who’ll hurt him. Louis doesn’t even know what he’s doing and what he’s asking for and Louis wouldn’t know what he’d be agreeing to when he doesn’t even know his own boundaries, and if he got hurt it’d be Liam’s responsibility. 

He rereads the text, feeling nauseous, the panic settling deep in his stomach. _find somebody else_ , he repeats in his head, insides twisting.

He realises that wants to keep this Louis - the one on his knees and counting, the one letting Liam choke him, the one whose breath slows down and whose pupils dilate when he feels Liam’s hand on his throat - all to himself. The thought that somebody else might get to see him like this, that Liam might have to share the memory of it with someone else invades his mind like poison. 

Somehow he feels like he’s found something rare and wild and precious, and now that he’s convinced himself that he can’t have it for himself, he feels like nobody else should, either. 

He pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and finger until it hurts, staring down at the phone and then hits _Call_ , tapping his foot incessantly, unable to keep still. 

“Hello,” Louis’ voice greets him and Liam starts speaking, but then Louis continues, “this is Louis Tomlinson’s voice mail. Please leave a message after the beep!” Liam swears and considers hanging up and trying again, but Louis’ phone appears to be turned off. 

“Hi,” he starts after the signal, unsure what it is exactly that he wants to say, “it’s me. Uhm, Liam. I just read your messages, and I just wanted to see if you’re alright.”

He pauses. “Don’t do anything reckless, Lou.” 

He hangs up before he can say anymore, staring at the phone, heart racing, and then gets up and gingerly places it on his bedside table. His cheeks feel hot, and he feels even more terrified than before both scared of Louis ringing back and Louis _not_ ringing back.

*

Two days later, Zayn rings Liam in the wee hours of morning, when the light is still grey and Liam needs more than a couple of seconds to wake up and reach for his phone, curled up in the warmth of his bed, still caught up in his dream.

He mumbles a hoarse hello into the speaker and rubs the sleep from his eyes. 

“Mornin’,” Zayn says; he sounds raspy, like he’s been up all night, and Liam can distantly hear people talking in the background, the faint sound of music or video games. He must, Liam’s sleepy-slow mind reasons, be with Danny and Ant, another all-nighter that will leave deep rings under Zayn’s eyes for days because he never catches enough good sleep anyway. 

“What’s up,” Liam croaks when Zayn doesn’t continue immediately. He manages to glance at the neon-digits on his bedside alarm clock and winces at the 7.30 A.M. blinking at him. 

“Have you talked to Lou lately?” Zayn asks and Liam grunts in response. Usually, Zayn’s drunk, early calls include questions about the meaning of life or descriptions of food or just things that make Liam laugh. 

“No, no,” he says. Louis hasn’t called back. Louis hasn’t texted back either, and Liam has done his very best in the past two days to stay focused on things that are closer to him than Louis all the way in London, his mum, his dad, his sisters and the dog, the garden and the house and all his friends here who’ve missed him. “He’s in London still, isn’t he?” 

Zayn makes an unintelligible noise and then says, “Pap pics say so.”

“Pap pics?” Liam asks and sits up. He draws his legs up and sits against the headboard of his bed, trying to wake up properly. “What happened?” Zayn is not usually so cryptic, especially concerning Louis. 

“Somebody on Twitter just sent me a link,” Zayn continues, “he was papped this morning on his way home and he looked really pissed. Falling over. Our guys were almost carrying him.”

“You shouldn’t read everything people send you on Twitter,” Liam says automatically, and then stops when he realises what Zayn has said. “Are you sure it’s him?” he asks, incredulous. 

“Yeah,” Zayn says. “Man, I worry. He hasn’t really talked to me in like, two weeks, and now this. I thought he might’ve talked to you.” 

Liam swallows and stays quiet. He can’t lie to Zayn - it’s _Zayn_ \- but he can’t really tell him either, and if he could, he’s not sure he’d know how. “No,” he says slowly, “not really.” 

“I just don’t want him getting into trouble,” Zayn insists. “I tried ringing Harry, but he’s incommunicado, and knowing them they’d just go on and get into even more trouble together.” He sounds genuinely worried, and Liam feels a twinge of guilt, but a larger pang of concern. 

“I’ll drive to London,” he says, mouth, lips, tongue, vocal chords acting on auto command before he’s even thought it through. “I’ll take care of this, Zayn, don’t worry. It’ll be okay. I’m sure he’s just fine. Just needed to- let loose for a night, probably.” Louis doesn’t, though, not like that anymore. He prefers private parties, no paps, no publicity. 

There’s a long pause before Zayn finally replies, “If there’s anything-” He stops again, the silence filled with the background noises of Danny and Ant talking over the music. “You can tell me things, Li,” he finally says. 

“Yeah,” Liam replies. He suddenly feels heavy, burdened, like there’s rocks in his insides pulling him down. “I know.” 

“Let me know,” Zayn continues, “when you’re there. Let me know he’s alright, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Liam holds his breath and counts to three, then exhales slowly. “I’ll give you a ring. I’ve got to go and wake my mum up and tell her I’m driving back.”

Zayn chuckles, but it sounds faked even if Liam can’t see his face, can’t see the way his mouth would quirk like it usually does when Zayn is trying to hide an emotion. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“We’ll see,” Liam jokes. “Alright mate, I’ll keep in touch.” He hangs up before Zayn has a chance to say any more, to maybe start asking questions. 

The house is very quiet, dark and cool while he collects his things from around the kitchen and the living room, getting packed again; he doesn’t rush, takes care to fold his clothes and makes sure he doesn’t forget anything. By the time he’s done and comes back from a quick shower, his mum is awake and in the kitchen, making tea.

She looks very tired, a little sad, but not reproachful, and Liam wraps her in a tight hug, hiding his face against her neck. He has to lean down to do so and she hugs back tightly, rubbing his back. 

When they pull apart again, her eyes are a little wet. “You’re leaving again?” she asks and tries to go for a smile. Liam shrugs and smiles back, rubbing her arm. 

He nods. “Yes. I’m sorry, mum, I didn’t know until a half hour ago. Lou - Louis - he got into a bit of trouble, and I just want to-” He shrugs again and bites his lip, suddenly remembers when he was fifteen and sneaking out to meet a girl Andy had set him up with, late at night because Andy had planned the entire thing, and his mum caught him on his way out, half-amused, half-angry.

“It’s alright, dear,” she says. “D’you have time for a cuppa? Or should I get you some to-go?”

“To-go would be brilliant, mum.” He watches her shuffle around the kitchen, preparing tea and a sandwich, and then kisses her goodbye when she’s all done, makes her promise to tell his dad and the girls that he’s sorry.

*

Liam’s never had a key to Louis’ house, but Paul does. He wasn’t part of the team that brought Louis home in the morning - Liam had a look at the link Zayn sent him while stuck in traffic just outside London - but he seems to know what’s going on when Liam rings him and asks to meet up.

Twenty minutes later, Liam is at Paul’s hotel, enters through the car park, unnoticed, to meet Paul in the restaurant. He looks tired, like he spent the morning on the phone instead of getting some well-earned sleep, and he gives Liam a long look when he asks for the key to Louis’ house. 

“Are you sure about that, lad?” he asks, stirring his coffee, heavy bags under his eyes. “It’s not really any of your business. It’s band business, but- he’s home safe, sleepin’ it off.” 

Liam shrugs and picks at the biscuit he ordered automatically as they sat down even though he wasn’t particularly hungry. “I’m making it my business, Paul.” He knows he sounds defiant and a little childish, but chances are also that Louis is still asleep or won’t let him in, because he hasn’t been answering any of Liam’s phone calls in the past two hours. “I’m already here, so.” He taps the table with his forefinger, gives Paul a look, brows raised.

Paul sighs deeply and then digs in his pocket and produces a buzzer and a key, held together by a red plastic ring. “Code and buzzer at the gate,” he says. “Three-seven-two-eight, and key at the door.”

Liam cocks a brow, but doesn’t say anything except, “Thanks. I’ll email you.”

“Alright,” Paul sighs, “take care, Liam.” He takes a sip of his coffee and then pats Liam’s side when Liam gets up and gives him half a hug to say goodbye. He’s tense and Liam tries to smile at him, but fails, waves one last time before heading back to his car. 

He finds the house after a few attempts, driving around the area and following his instincts rather than the map. He punches the code into the number pad at the front gate, remembering the buzzer in his front pocket when it won’t budge. Liam’s been here before, but only at night and for parties when the gate was open and a constant stream of people were making their way in and out. He fits the key into the lock of the front door and steps inside, quietly taking off his shoes in the front hall. 

Like all their flats and houses it smells clean, new and not quite lived because they use them so rarely, but somehow Louis has managed to make his feel so much more like a home. There’s a clutter of little personal items on a drawer in the hall, shoes in disorder, a scarf flung over a door. The floor is old, dark and heavy and smooth, and creaks a little as Liam starts making his way further into the house. 

His heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat, adrenaline and blood rushing through his system at lightning speed. It’s almost as though he hadn’t realised before what he was doing, where he was going, and it hits him that he doesn’t have a plan for _now_ , that his plan ended the moment he stepped inside. He’s lost and it scares him. 

He keeps going, his own breathing loud in his ears, and then finally reaches the living room. There’s a puddle of clothes on the floor - he recognises them as the ones that Louis wore in the pap shots from earlier in the day - and Liam follows the trail, trousers and a T-shirt, socks and a belt and briefs, up a spiralled flight of stairs to where he knows Louis’ bedroom is. 

He takes a deep breath to collect himself when he reaches the door, standing outside in the hallway; the large roof windows are letting in sunlight that catches dancing dust in its wake and throws irregular patterns on the floor. Another deep breath and then Liam opens the door and steps inside. He’s never been in here. All parties are always held downstairs, in the kitchen and the living room and the garden.

Louis’ bedroom is all beige and soft, thick rugs, a wall of fitted wardrobes, a row of windows hidden from view by heavy curtains and a large bed with no frame in which a small figure lies curled up beneath a pile of blankets and what appears to be an oversized pillow. Liam stares, unable to move or to even breathe, and then Louis shifts, throwing off the pillow, and sits up. 

He looks incredibly tired, hair sticking up in all directions, and eyes red with dehydration and sleep loss. He blinks at Liam, like he’s not sure what he’s seeing, and then groans and turns around to lie on his belly and hide his face against his pillows. 

For a moment, Liam feels like bolting; maybe Louis didn’t even see him properly. Maybe Louis will think he was dreaming and Liam can make his escape and nobody will be the wiser. He takes another deep breath and closes the distance between the door and bed, though, willing himself to move, and then sits at the edge where Louis’ hip and arse are visible shapes under the thick covers. 

“Hey,” Liam says. He reaches out and rubs Louis’ back and Louis stirs again, grumbling something into the blanket, and then turns his head and look up at Liam, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. 

“Li.” He sounds broken and tired and whiny, and Liam presses his fingers in, feeling Louis’ muscles shift. “Will you get me some water, Leemo?” He tries to curl closer, but Liam holds his hand down, pinning him, realising that he must still be drunk. He _wants_ to cradle him close, but there’s no telling what will happen and Liam is adamant about convincing himself that he didn’t come here for _that_. 

“Of course.” He pulls away and gets up, pads back downstairs and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and then rummages through the drawers in the kitchen until he finds a bottle of aspirin, extracting two tablets. When he returns upstairs, Louis seems to be asleep again, lying on his side, but he reaches out when Liam steps closer and tries to quietly put the bottle and the painkillers on the bedside table. 

“Lee-yam,” Louis says with a little smile; his hand finds Liam’s thigh, and Liam sits down at his side again, oddly endeared. “It’s so funny that you’re here. Brilliant.” 

“You should have some water,” Liam explains, “and some aspirin as well, or you’ll be all sore tomorrow.”

“Today is tomorrow,” Louis grunts but reaches for the water bottle anyway. He flails around for a moment, trying to sit up, using Liam’s shoulder as leverage, and then sticks the bottle in his face. “Open it for me. I can’t.”

Liam looks down, has to look away from Louis’ earnest, drunk face, and grabs the bottle and twists it open. He hands it back and watches Louis take three, four big sips before grabbing the tablets from the bedside table and swallowing them with another two sips. 

“You should try to get a bit more sleep, Lou.” Liam tugs at his shoulder until Louis slides down again, then rearranges the covers. “Get as much as you can for when you wake up later with the headache of a lifetime.” 

Louis pulls a face and touches Liam’s thigh again. “Lie with me for a bit?” He looks smaller than he actually is, tired and curled up, and Liam is tempted to follow the request. The drive here was exhausting and long. He feels like his _bones_ are aching, and he wants to feel Louis’ body against his own again. 

He catches himself after a moment and smiles, then makes himself shake his head. “I ought to call my mum and let her know you’re alright, Tommo. Also let the others know you didn’t die of alcohol poisoning.” He can’t help but reach out and brush one unruly strand of hair from Louis’ forehead. In the evening - later, whenever - Louis wakes up again, this will all feel like a dream, and he will probably go back to not wanting to speak to Liam again. Liam doesn’t want to make it worse than it already is. He’s also scared that if he gets into bed with Louis now, just holds him and feels his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, he will never again be able to restrain himself. 

“Find you some food for later, too.”

He gets up, allows Louis’ hand to drop from his thigh, then helps Louis under the covers where he turns onto his other side and hides his face against his arm and drifts off again. Liam watches for a moment and then drags himself away, making his way downstairs. 

He doesn’t ring anyone; he just texts his mum, emails Zayn and the boys and Paul, and then flops down on the sofa in the living room and falls asleep with the midday sun warming his back and head, and the soft ticking of the large grandfather clock in the corner.

*

Liam wakes up to the sound of dishes, cutlery, drawers and cupboards opening and closing, and the faint noise of the radio playing from the kitchen. It’s only a moment later that he remembers that he’s not home, that he drove back to London in the early hours of morning. His head is _hot_ , heavy and stuffed, a deeply rooted pressure on his temples making him groan when he sits up, gripping the cushions for balance.

The dark hardwood is warm when he makes his way into the kitchen, still feeling fuzzy from sleep. He finds Louis in the kitchen with his back to Liam, preparing tea. There's a single plate of toast on the table already and Louis doesn't turn around even after Liam clears his throat. 

Louis is in a wide T-shirt, the loose collar hanging off his shoulder, the hem barely covering his arse. He's wearing ridiculous, zebra-striped boxer briefs and Liam can't help but let his eyes linger for a moment, stopping in the door with his hand on the frame to watch. 

Louis shifts, hips cocked, and pours one cup of tea, then glances over his shoulder, face blank. He still looks tired, worn, but less relaxed than in the morning, guarded and careful, much like Liam knows he gets around paps or journalists looking for a scandal. He grabs his cup and sits at the table, feet crossed at the ankles, but thighs spread, gives Liam another look and then takes a sip from his tea. 

Liam hesitates for another moment and then steps into the kitchen, attempting a smile that he knows fails. “Hey,” he says. “You’re awake.” 

“I am,” Louis replies promptly like he's been waiting for Liam to say exactly that. He takes another sip and then reaches for a piece of toast, hunched forward a little, the chair digging into his thighs. He looks like he's trying hard to seem relaxed, but Liam can see the tension in his back, in the way he holds his head. 

"Is there any more tea?" he asks and moves further into the kitchen, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He almost regrets not following Louis' request to lie with him in the morning, but at the same time is glad he didn’t. 

"Yep," Louis says. "Water's still hot. Help yourself." 

Liam makes a sound, involuntarily, and grabs a mug from the cupboard and a tea bag and pours himself a cup then sits opposite to Louis at the table. "You had us worried," he starts after a moment, suddenly desperate to fill the silence between them. "Zayn gave me a ring at like, seven. He was really spooked." 

Louis looks up and cocks a brow at him, mouth curving. "Spooked? Because I got drunk?" 

Liam shrugs. Louis is phrasing it so that no matter what Liam comes up with as a reply, it'll still sound silly and like he'd been overreacting, and maybe that's partly true. "I was worried," he finally says. "It's not like you."

Louis snorts and shakes his head. He puts his cup down and gives Liam another scorching look. "I've been realising a whole lot of new things about myself, Payno. It didn't seem to worry you before." He licks a spot of butter from his finger, holds Liam's gaze intentionally for a moment, and Liam holds is breath, staring. 

"You're my friend," he explains after a moment. _I wanted to make sure you're safe, you scared me. I wanted to make sure you didn't actually find anyone else._ He doesn't say that, and he hides his face behind his mug in an attempt to keep Louis from reading it on his face. 

"You are." Louis doesn't elaborate, but Liam knows him well enough to be able to tell that he's back to feeling hostile. Liam searches his face, remembers Louis’ text _again_ , and looks down at the table, the neatly laid out placemats and Louis hand next to his plate of toast. He suddenly feels guilty for not waking up earlier, for not following through and finding food for Louis before _he_ woke up, and then shakes the feeling when he realises how ridiculous it is. 

“There’s a party tonight,” Louis says. He’s finished the last piece of toast and is rubbing crumbs off the tips of his fingers. “I’m going. You can come with, if you’d like. Harry is somewhere off with his crew. Road trip, I think? I wouldn’t want you to be all on your own after you’ve rushed here.” His tone is mocking, almost cruel, but Liam choses to ignore it, takes another sip of his tea. He forgot to take the bag out and now it’s getting bitter, unpleasantly tangy, and he puts the mug down, pulling a face. 

“Okay,” he hears himself say, “let’s go for a few. It’ll be nice.” He doesn’t want to go. There’s something in the way Louis is watching him, all sharp blue eyes, narrowed and waiting, that tells Liam that Louis has a purpose, much like he must’ve had a purpose last night. 

Louis rolls his shoulders and gets up, grabs his plate and cup, stacking them, and then reaches out for Liam’s mug, discarded on the table, too. He seems to stop himself, hand hovering for a moment, before he ducks his head and turns around to put his dishes in the sink, back curving a little. Liam nudges his mug, staring, and sucks on his tongue to hold the order in. He has - very intentionally - given up that right before he even attained it, and Louis seems more aware of it than he should be. 

He grabs the dish after a moment and joins Louis at the worktop to put it in the sink, nudging him as if by accident needing at least some kind of contact for a moment. 

Louis kicks at his shin and makes room, moving away to the fridge, but doesn’t open it. For a moment he looks like he wants to say something, eye flicking between Liam and the floor, lashes in stark contrast to the bright colour of his irises. He looks vulnerable and unguarded, lips soft and pink and Liam wants to cross the space between them and press his thumb against the lush curve of his bottom lip, see what Louis will do. 

He turns the water on instead to rinse his cup, then rubs his hand over his head, the short buzz of his hair against his hand clearing his mind a little. “Party tonight then. Fun.” 

“Fun,” Louis echoes. He takes another step backwards, T-shirt falling off his shoulder to reveal a collarbone, the arch of his neck. “I’m going to go and have another nap. There’s DVDs by the telly.”

Liam swallows and nods, unable to find anything coherent to reply before Louis leaves the kitchen, the soft padding sound of his steps up the stairs ringing in Liam’s ears.

*

Liam doesn't watch a film. He grabs his coat and his keys and heads out into the city again. It's a sunny afternoon, somewhat warm, and he finds a very late lunch at a little cafe and a cup of coffee from Costa. He's out for almost an hour before there’s people who recognise him - it must have been the hoodie over his head that kept him hidden for so long - and he takes pictures with fans and signs CDs and autographs and T-shirts. He doesn't mind and everyone is - surprisingly courteous - mostly older fans or parents out with their daughters.

It's another hour until he makes his way back to his car, wandering through a small park for a while, and then, stuck in traffic, it takes him almost another thirty minutes to get back to Louis' house where he finds Louis awake and messing with his hair in the small downstairs bathroom, face scrunched up as he examines himself in the mirror. 

He barely looks up when Liam comes to stand by the door, instinct carrying him closer than reason would allow. Louis smells fresh and clean, showered, like expensive soap and shampoo, a familiar scent that makes Liam’s heart speed up. He grips the doorframe tightly and meets Louis’ eyes in the mirror, where he’s still giving himself a scrutinising look. 

His hair seems to have been fussed with quite a bit, but is still soft; Liam loves it that way. He always has, the short hair in the back and the fringe that both carves out the angles in Louis’ face more and at the same time makes it seem softer. 

“What?” Louis finally says. He straightens his back and uses his fingers to brush his hair back into his forehead, restoring order. 

“Wear it down?” Liam blurts out and then immediately regrets it when Louis’ eyes narrow at him. 

He reaches out and grabs the tube of wax on the sink, dips his fingers in and threads them through his fringe to mould the beginnings of a quiff. “No,” he says, smoothing out his sides. “I like this better.” He’s not looking at Liam anymore, eyes now fixed on his hair as he musses it. 

Liam grits his teeth and pushes himself away from the doorframe, carries his duffle bag upstairs to the guest bedroom to change. Toeing off his trainers and pulling his jumper over his head, it occurs to him that Louis never invited him to stay, but the bed seems newly made and there’s towels waiting for him. He stops, frowning, and trails his hand over the terrycloth, then shakes his head, heart pounding.

He has a quick shower, scrubbing the city dirt off his face and hands and hair, forehead against the tile for a moment as he breathes in and allows the water to engulf him. He’s feeling exhilarated, almost euphoric even though there’s no guarantee that the guest room hadn’t been prepared before. Louis has a lot of friends and only few of them actually live in London. He likes welcoming people and giving them a home for a night. Liam inhales, exhales, eyes closed; he turns and rinses his hair, then steps out of the shower and rubs himself dry. When he opens the bathroom door, he finds Louis adjusting the blinds, tiptoeing to reach the handle dangling high from the roof window, and jerking around at the sound of the door. 

He stares at Liam for a moment and Liam stares back, shellshocked and unable to find anything to say with droplets of water finding their way down his neck and chest, tickling him and making him hyperaware of his own, unclothed state. 

“It’s-” Louis starts and then shrugs, gesturing up. “It gets really bright in the mornings.”

Liam involuntarily tightens his grip on his towel around his waist and Louis’ eyes drop for a moment before he looks away again. He seems ready to go, in a white T-shirt and black jeans, hair all done up. 

“Thanks,” Liam says automatically. 

There’s a ghost of a smile on Louis’ face before he hides it again, expression evening out. He steps away from the wall and wipes his hands on the back of his jeans as if he’s touched something sticky. 

“I’ll be downstairs. We should be there at eight?” He takes another step, the outline of his abs and stomach visible under the thin fabric of his top. “Hurry up.”

Liam swallows and nods. “Will do.” He keeps still while Louis shuffles around the bed and closes the door the hall behind himself, watching him move; he looks a little skittish, but it may as just be an illusion created by Liam’s brain. 

He gives it another moment, then gets ready; jeans and a T-shirt, plays with his hair momentarily. It’s starting to grow out at the top again, and while it’s still short and only needs very little grooming, Liam suddenly feels like he wants to look _good_ tonight. 

When Liam comes downstairs, Louis is in the kitchen, playing with his phone and picking at a muffin; he gives Liam another once over but doesn’t say anything, and Liam can’t help but touch his hair, rub, feeling a bout of insecurity that he hasn't felt in years. 

“Ready?” he says, catching himself, and Louis nods and grabs his muffin off the table, starts wandering into the hall to put on his shoes with one hand, balancing precariously, but doesn't say anything. 

Liam follows, shrugs on his jacket, puts on his shoes and then continues, “I’ll be driving.” He needs something to make him feel in control again, something to hold on to even if it’s just the steering wheel of his car. The thought gets him more focused and he grabs the keys, then opens the door for Louis to step out after him.

It’s pleasant, not quite cold, but not scorchingly hot either. Liam walks on ahead, forcing himself to not look back, and use his keys to remote-unlock the car. It's eerily silent for a few moments when they get in the car and fasten their seat belts. Louis leans over and starts playing with the iPod Liam has got hooked to the sound system. He makes a thoughtful sound and just as Liam pulls out onto the street, Timberlake starts blasting, filling the void. 

“It’s a good album,” Liam comments, watching Louis from the corner of his eyes. It’s a good thing he chose to drive; it makes him focus on the road instead of everything else. 

“Yeah.” Louis skips one, two, three songs and then finally settles on one, leaning back in his seat. He taps away on his phone, then grabs the navigation system off the dashboard and punches in an address. “That’s where we need to go,” he says and puts it back. It’s on mute, because Liam doesn’t like the computerised voice but quite suddenly he wishes it weren’t because he doesn't know what to say. 

It’s not a long drive, ten, fifteen minutes maybe, through little streets he’s never been in, with Justin’s voice barely making up for the lack of conversation; luckily, Liam finds an empty parking space rather quickly and manoeuvres the car around while Louis unfastens his seatbelt, fiddling with the mechanism. His sleeves are rolled up, skin still tanned from the summer. 

Liam looks away and turns off the engine, then gets out of the car, forcing himself to not look back. “Whose party is this again?” he asks, walks around the car and starts following Louis down the road. 

“Ben’s,” Louis says without further explanation; he waits up for Liam and reaches out as if on instinct, but drops his hand again, speeding up a little. “You _are_ drinking tonight, though, aren’t you?”

Liam shrugs, and then finally nods. He's still considering his options when he starts noticing the faint sounds of music, and then Louis veers left, pushes open a low gate and enters a small garden. Liam can hear voices and more music, the thrum of a bass; in the far distance beyond the roofs the sun is starting to set, casting a red, warm light over them as they make their way past potted flowers and herbs and little tomato plants. Louis pushes the front door open without ringing the doorbell and lets Liam inside where they’re greeted by a girl Liam very vaguely remembers from one of their film shootings. He hugs her back anyway, answers her questions graciously and accepts a glass of champagne as a welcome drink. 

The house seems full as they start moving further inside; old and charming in a way, renovated but lovely, all dark wood and sturdy floors and bare beams in the ceiling. There’s too many people Liam knows, all of whom seem to want to talk to him, and he gets caught up in the hall with one of the boys from their previous supporting band and his girlfriend, who appears to be reason for his presence in London. 

He catches up with them, nodding along to their conversation and sipping his sparkling wine, and when he looks up again, he sees Louis pushing past a group of girls in leotards into another room, vanishing between bodies, small frame swallowed by the crowd until Liam can't see him anymore. 

“And then,” the girl is saying, leaning into her boyfriend, “he decided to stay for the summer. Isn’t that sweet? Louis made it happen.” She grins hugely at Liam, purple lipstick and silver wingtips, and Liam tries his hardest to smile back at her. 

“That’s great,” he manages and takes a step to the side, tiptoeing a little to see over the heads of the rest of the people, trying to spot Louis, and then stops himself again when he realises what he’s doing. “He’s quite a matchmaker, isn’t he?” He finishes his drink in one big sip, and then excuses himself to find another one. 

The music in the kitchen is louder, more insistent almost, and Liam bobs his head along to it, grabbing a beer from the fridge and heads to the living room where he finds Ben and a few others from the film crew who greet him with surprised grins and handshakes. He sits with them, looking around, half wanting Louis to have sneaked in here to talk to the host, but finds that he hasn’t so he starts a conversation with one of the camera girls. 

He gets through his beer and somebody presses another into his hand which he also finishes while they reminisce a few anecdotes from the filming earlier in the year, and when he goes to the kitchen for yet another bottle, he feels a little woozy, unsteady, and not quite as worried about Louis as before. There’s more girls when he comes back and he sits with them, tells them stories from the tour and how much fun working with Ben was. 

“Oh,” one of them says in the middle of his recount of one of Niall’s stunts. She nudges her friend, grinning, perked up a little, and mouths _Louis_ like Liam can’t see. He goes silent and follows her gaze, finds Louis outside the glass front in the garden, drink in hand, hip cocked as he gestures with his free hand. 

The light from a lantern above gives him a ginger halo, and his smile is sharp when he laughs, his entire body shaking from it, shoulders drawing up. He goes up on his tiptoes and then takes a step back, then leans against a chair outside. A moment later his conversational partner follows, now in Liam’s line of sight, and something in Liam twists and turns. It’s a guy, tall, dark, with smooth and pleasant features, his stance is confident and self-assured. 

Liam feels his face darken and looks away, takes a sip from his beer and then stumbles to his feet; he nods as one of the girls grabs at his arm and asks if he’s okay, and then moves past the sofa toward the kitchen. His heart is pounding, and he very suddenly and very vividly remembers Louis’ text message, remembers almost word for word what he’d told Louis that made Louis send it in the first place. 

He grunts and drops his bottle in the sink, then mixes himself a drink. It’s too strong and makes his tongue tingle and he coughs and wheezes for a moment, but takes another sip. When he’s done, Ben is leaning against the doorframe and giving him a worried look. 

“You alright, lad?” he asks, brows drawn together tightly. 

“Yeah.” Liam shrugs and then tops his drink off with more coke. It tastes better now, but still pools hotly in his stomach. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he continues, “very sorry about that.” Ben gives him a doubtful look and doesn’t move, so Liam smiles at him. “Honestly, I’m alright.” Ben still looks like he doesn’t quite believe Liam, but moves when Liam presses past him. He pats Liam’s shoulder with a heavy, comforting hand, and then quite suddenly says, “Whatever it is, Liam, you shouldn’t let it eat you away like that.” 

He smiles at Liam and shrugs, and Liam almost stumbles, narrowing his eyes at him, but Ben has already moved to the fridge, seemingly not bothered anymore. Liam takes a sip from his drink again, then shakes his head, feeling it spin a little with the movement, and returns to his seat. 

The girls and most of the crew are gone and Louis isn’t in the garden anymore either. There’s a couple caught up in a deep kiss curled up in the corner of the sofa; Liam stares for a moment, and then looks away, follows the music into the dining room, balancing past people, the room dark and _loud_. 

With the bass thrumming through his body he suddenly realises how drunk he must be, ears ringing. He can’t see faces in here, but feels the heat from too many people in one room; somehow he makes it to the other side. From the corner of his eye he perceives a familiar quiff, a small frame, followed by a larger, and he drops his empty glass onto a table to follow them. He bumps into someone, apologises hurriedly, and when he gets out into the hall again, there’s Louis leaning against the wall with his hands behind his back, smiling, the guy from before towering over him. 

He’s taller than Liam, much taller than Louis, and while his body language doesn’t suggest a real interest in Louis, he’s still responding to the blatant hints Louis is dropping. Liam stops himself, holds his breath and feels anger and jealousy wash over him. Louis looks a little disheveled like he’s been dancing, sweaty and pink-cheeked, and Liam’s throat goes tight at the thought of somebody else seeing him like that, of Louis inviting somebody else to touch him. 

He knows he should step back, get out and find a taxi and go home because that’s what he told Louis after all, it’s what he wanted and what he thought he needed to remain in control of this entire situation. It’s all slipping away now, too fast for Liam to keep up. 

Louis looks up a second later, his eyes go wide and his face opens up. He composes himself again quickly, but Liam’s already seen it. He realises that he doesn’t mind losing control this time, that he doesn’t mind falling, that he _wants_ to fall. The thought scares him but also makes his legs move further down the hall where Louis pushes off the wall like a tense bow. 

“Liam,” he starts, but stops abruptly when Liam gently grabs his arm and steers him on. He trails his hand up Louis’ back and buries it in the back of his hair, gripping tightly. Louis gasps and falters, but Liam walks him back into the living room and guides him through the darkness. 

He can hear his own blood rushing in his ears and imagines that he can feel Louis’ heartbeat, fast and fluttering like a little bird. Louis scent is overwhelming, and Liam presses close as they walk, shielded by the absence of light. He can feel Louis’ rapid breathing, barely flinches when Louis digs his fingers into his arm to hold on. 

They make it through to another door that leads into an unlit hallway where Liam finds a bathroom and pushes Louis inside. He switches the light on and locks the door, body so tense he thinks he’s going to shatter or snap in two. 

Louis takes a step back, leans against the sink, legs spread slightly, his hands on the rim. He tilts his chin up and widens his stance, and Liam groans at the hunger rising inside him. He closes the space between them and covers Louis’ hips with his hands, squeezing, pressing his fingers in. 

Louis moans and arches up, shivers in Liam’s hands, and rubs first his nose and then his cheek over Liam’s chin, their mutual stubble creating a delicious friction.

“You were jealous,” Louis breathes and Liam nods because he’s done lying and he’s done lying to himself. 

“I was. I am,” he replies, digs his thumbs and rubs a circle that Louis must feel even through his jeans. “I can’t stand the thought,” he continues. His brain to mouth filter is off - incapacitated by the tight press of Louis’ body against his own, by the flutter of his breath against his neck and the scent of his shampoo and his sweat and his arousal. He returns his hand to the back of Louis’ neck, threads his fingers through his hair and drags them up until Louis’ quiff is a mess, until it’s all gone and Louis’ hair is mussed and wild. 

“Liam,” Louis croaks out again and Liam hums in return. He hesitates for a moment, breathing deeply, listens to the echoes inside of him, and then slides his hand down Louis’ neck, shoulder and up again to his throat.

“You need this,” he hears himself say and squeezes gently until he can feel Louis swallow rapidly, then stop. He presses in more until Louis’ breathing dies down and then pulls back to look at him. His eyes are wide, pupils blown and mouth slack and he’s fisted a hand tightly into Liam’s T-shirt, holding on. 

Liam lets go, rubs a soothing hand over where he knows bruises will show later, and ruts down against Louis. He’s hard, but for the first time since they started doing this he doesn’t want to hide it. “You love this,” he continues and Louis nods again. His eyes flutter shut and he makes a small noise in the back of his throat. Liam leans in to nuzzle his neck and ear, trails his hand over his chest and rubs his thumb over his nipple because he can. “You love it when I own you.” 

Another noise and then Louis is pushing at his chest, hands sliding up Liam’s neck to cup his face. He looks up at Liam, eyes flickering like he’s searching something in Liam’s face and then finally he says, “I do.” 

Liam pushes against him again, but holds back the urge to grab him. He can feel Louis’ cock hard through his jeans, and his own twitches in response at the thought. Louis’ stubble is tickling his palm when he cups his chin and tilts it up again until their breaths mingle, noses almost touching. With his hand on Louis’ neck, Liam thinks he can feel his heartbeat, though it might be his own resonating through every limb of his body. 

Louis closes his eyes and relaxes, lips slack, and Liam kisses him. He nibbles at his bottom lip and asks him to play and Louis responds, kissing back, biting and nudging. He keeps up the game for a moment, making Liam chase him, but gives in soon after, melting into the kiss. 

Liam kisses him until he clings, until he’s arching up and on his toes, and then pulls away, bites his chin. “I can’t do one without the other,” he says, breathing hard. “This-” He gently chokes Louis again in demonstration. “And this-” He nibbles at Louis’ chin, then his lip, pleased by the way it’s already red and a little swollen. 

“I know,” Louis replies. “Neither can I.” He meets Liam’s eyes again, wide and expectant and curious, like he’s waiting and willing to take everything and anything that Liam is ready to give. Liam fits his hand over the curve where neck meets shoulder, rubs the sinew with his thumb and then gently pushes. It’s both instinct and curiosity, wanting to know how far he can go already, how far Louis will let him go, and he’s bold enough from alcohol to act on it. 

Louis goes down easily, though; he doesn’t even question it, keeps his eyes trained up as he sinks to his knees, making space for himself between the sink and Liam’s legs. His cheeks are red, the colour staining his neck like ink spreading on blotting paper, and Liam uses his thumb to rub his bottom lip and pull it down, parting his lips. 

A small grin flickers over Louis’ face and he flicks his tongue out, teasing Liam’s thumb until Liam pinches his chin. 

“Cheeky,” he says, smiling back down. Louis stops immediately, lets his mouth go slack again and Liam pushes his thumb in and runs it along the inside of his lip, then over his teeth. There’s white noise inside his head, a rush of adrenaline and endorphins that surges in tidal waves through him with every breath he takes and with every breath he can feel Louis take. 

Louis wraps his lips around his thumb and suck softly; there’s an obscene _pop_ when Liam pulls it out again and unfastens his flies, drags the waistband of his boxer briefs down. He keeps his eyes on Louis, holds his gaze and wraps his hand around the thick base of his cock. 

Louis’ nostrils flare for a moment and Liam can hear his breath shudder, then he leans in and kisses the side of Liam’s cock like he’s not sure what he’s doing, tentative and careful, eyes wide. 

Liam smiles and trails his free hand over his cheekbone down to the arch of his mouth. He looks beautiful, curious, a little frightened, hopeful, trusting, and all those things make Liam’s throat tight with want. 

“Touch me,” he says. “Use your hand.” And then specifies, “No, one hand,” when Louis moves to touch him with both. 

He gingerly wraps his fingers around the shaft and gives Liam a stroke that makes his knees buckle a little bit, makes him groan, and then leans in and kisses the head. Another sound breaks from Liam’s throat and he shifts his hips and pushes between Louis’ lips. He half expects resistance, hesitation, but Louis opens up and tilts his head back, keeps sucking while Liam guides himself inside, with Louis’ hand dropping to his thigh.

He runs his fingers up through Louis’ hair and grips it not too hard at first, then seeks out Louis’ eyes again to make sure he’s still with him, to make sure he still wants this. Louis stares back for a moment and then closes his eyes, increases the suction until Liam’s hips twitch again, a hot jolt of pleasure shooting up his spine. 

“Stay,” he manages, voice deep and rough, and starts stroking himself. He was close the moment Louis’ mouth touched his dick, and he can feel the pressure building already, a warm rush in the back of his head, and Louis’ tongue is soft and velvety against the head of his cock, rubbing up occasionally when Liam tightens his grip on Louis’ hair.

Louis is keeping still, but Liam can see his hips moving, rolling in rhythm with Liam’s spit-slick hand on his dick. 

He groans and tugs at Louis’ hair, forces himself deeper until Louis makes a desperate sound, a little noise that dies when Liam holds him there, squeezing himself in short, little strokes. He comes a second later, too wound up to hold back, and this time Louis really does choke, sputtering and pulling back, Liam’s release hitting first his tongue and then his puffy, red lips, leaving a messy pattern that Louis wipes away with the back of his hand. 

Liam traces his thumb over his mouth, rubs, mind still blank and hot from orgasm, and tucks himself back into his pants. He helps Louis back onto his feet and pulls him close, licks into his mouth and kisses him gently while Louis wraps his arms around his neck, fingers playing with the short hair on Liam’s nape. 

They break apart, smiling against each other’s lips, and Louis goes up on his toes and nudges his nose against Liam’s. His body feels heated, feverish almost, and he’s hard against Liam’s hip, the muscles in his back tensing and relaxing. 

“Should I take you home?” Liam asks quietly, kisses the corner of Louis’ mouth and feels his smile widen a little. 

“If you’d like,” Louis replies and Liam shakes his head, feeling dizzy; he slides his hands down Louis’ back and squeezes his arse, nodding slowly. 

“I think I’d very much like that, yes,” he replies while Louis gasps and arches up.

His voice is hoarse, when a moment later he says, “Please do.”

*

Later, Liam will wonder how they got out of the house, how he had enough sense to ring for a taxi and not get in his own car, and how they made it all the way back to Louis’ house without touching once in the back of the taxi. He only remembers placing Louis on one side of the backseat and slipping in on the other side and remembers telling him to fasten his seatbelt.

He pays the cabbie once they’re home, and Louis presses up against him as they walk up to the house, sneaking under Liam’s arm and stumbling along, his body warm and solid against Liam’s. There’s a part of Liam that worries - about the cabbie, about stray fans seeing them - but it’s silenced by the insistent hum of the need inside of him. 

Louis is giggly when he unlocks the door and lets Liam walk him inside and lets Liam push him up against the door. His lips are soft and welcoming when Liam kisses him again, and he kisses back, urgent and hungry and makes Liam’s head spin so Liam pulls away, breathing hard against Louis’ mouth, and wraps his hand around his wrist, tugging him along. Louis follows and Liam leads them through the living room and up the stairs to Louis’ bedroom, body thrumming, nervous and excited at the same time. 

The blinds aren’t down in here, and the lights of the city bathe the room in a soft shine, illuminating Louis’ face as he walks backwards. Liam lets go of his wrist and watches him, breath caught in his throat, overwhelmed for a moment until he finds himself again.

“Undress,” he says and takes a step toward Louis, tilting his chin up to emphasise the order. 

Louis meets his eyes and then drops his gaze before he starts stripping quietly but quickly; he drops his clothes in disorder on the floor and Liam almost misses it, distracted by the dip of his waist and the curve of his stomach and the patch of blond hair on his chest that matches the treasure trail leading down to his crotch where a perfectly groomed tuft frames the base of his thick, pink cock, hard and curving up. 

Liam feels his mouth go dry with want, but controls himself, nods at the clothes on the floor. “Be tidy,” he explains and notices the rise and fall of Louis’ chest increase. He picks his clothes up, folds them up and drops them on the dresser where he flicks on the lamp, then looks at Liam with his brow cocked, and Liam wants to grab him and press him down and hold him there, so he does. 

Louis squeaks when Liam grabs his neck and wrist and wrestles him down onto the bed, fights back shortly until Liam crawls on top of him and forces him down onto his stomach with his weight. He leans in and bites his neck, sucks a mark into it and Louis makes a choked noise in the back of his throat that rattles Liam’s self-control. 

He sits back up and squeezes Louis’ wrist before letting go. “Stay,” he orders and Louis does, pliant and quiet while Liam strips down to his boxer briefs. He moves Louis up the bed a little, arms straining, and sits between his thighs which he arranges slightly spread so Liam can see his balls and his erection between his legs. He slides his hands up his thighs, pressing down hard so Louis will feel it, and Louis sighs loudly and moves his head, chin on his hands, and looks back at Liam. 

Liam smiles at him, cups his buttocks. “What am I going to do with you, hm?” 

Louis smiles back and then ducks his head like he’s suddenly embarrassed. “Dunno,” he replies and hides his face against his arms again. Liam watches for a second, continues massaging Louis’ thighs and allows Louis to hide just for a bit longer until he says, “Turn over. I want to see you.” 

He can see the muscles in Louis’ back tense up, then Louis shifts and turns around, eyebrows drawn up slightly. His chest is pink and flushed, much like his cheeks, and he attempts to give Liam a confident, teasing look that seems more flustered. 

“Hey,” Liam says and rubs his knee, then leans in closer to kiss him again. 

“Hey to you,” Louis mumbles back at him when they’re done. Liam kisses the corner of his mouth, then cups his chin and neck in his hand, forcing him back a little before closing his fingers around his throat and holding him there for a moment. He tightens when Louis tries to inhale, then eases his grip, gently pressing until he can feel Louis’ heartbeat slow down, until he relaxes just a bit. He pulls away and his hands find Louis’ propped up thighs and he uses his weight as leverage to spread them open until Louis’ knees hit the mattress and he’s exposed, with his hips tilted up. 

“Liam-” Louis starts when Liam sits up to look at him. 

“Yes?” Liam asks, absently, trailing his eyes down Louis’ chest between his legs, where his cock is lying heavily against his stomach. He uses the flat of his hand to rub over it gently, squeezing, then trails his fingers over Louis’ balls and then his hole, teasing at it with the tip of a finger. Louis moans, hips twitching, hand moving as if he wants to grab his own cock. Liam bats at it with his free hand and shakes his head. “No, let me,” he says. He climbs over Louis and rummages through the bedside table, finally finds a tube of lube somewhere in the bottom drawer. It’s still wrapped in plastic around the top; Liam tears it off and squeezes a generous amount into the palm of his hand before dropping the tube on the bed next to Louis’ hip. 

He lets it warm for a moment, bites Louis’ thigh, and then wraps his hand around Louis’ cock and starts stroking, fascinated by the way it fits into his hand and twitches when he reaches the head. Louis groans and arches up, but curls his fingers into the duvet. 

Liam speeds up a little, stroking faster even though the angle is a little off, is completely different from what it feels like to touch himself. Louis doesn’t seem to mind. He’s riding up into Liam’s hand, hips rocking and head tossed back, and Liam stops his movement with his other hand, holding his hip down which earns him a desperate sound from Louis, almost pleading. 

He just keeps going, though, biting his bottom lip, focused on keeping Louis on the edge. Louis starts making tiny noises, _ah_ s and _mh_ s that mix with Liam’s own heavy breathing and the slick sound of his hand moving on Louis’ cock, the rustle of the sheets. 

He loves the way Louis tries to move against him, the way the muscles in his abdomen tense up and the way his mouth is slack and open and his hair is sticking to his forehead. He’s coming apart, but Liam wants to see _more_ of that, he wants to _take_ him apart and then put him back together, and he knows that Louis will let him. 

He eases off Louis’ cock and rubs a slick finger over his hole until he can feel Louis relax a little, his breathing still erratic, but no longer frantic. When Liam looks up, Louis is watching him, one hand over his head and gripping at his pillow, the other tangled in his hair. He rolls his hips up again, like he’s asking for it, and Liam groans and allows the tip of his forefinger to push inside, wiggling it against the ring of muscles, but then stops. 

He moves closer until he’s looming over Louis and can see his face, see his dilated pupils and the sweat gathering on his upper lip. “You want this?” he asks and worms his finger deeper, but stops again when Louis gasps, carefully watching his face, and wanting Louis to ask for it. 

“Yes,” Louis rasps. He squeezes his eyes shut again, throat working for a moment, his heart racing through his skin where Liam is touching him. Finally, he whimpers, “please, Liam-” It kicks something loose inside of Liam and he wiggles his finger deeper and twists, pulls out and pumps it back inside; Louis whines, eyes flying open, and he reaches up to hold onto Liam’s neck, his body curving up. 

“Oh,” he says, “oh god-”

Liam continues, then lines up a second finger, first rubbing over the stretched hole, then slowly allowing it to join the other. Louis’ body gives and his cock twitches; he moans and Liam lets go of his hip so he can ride up against his fingers and fuck himself which he does, desperately rocking against Liam’s fingers pumping into him. 

He convulses around Liam, shaking, holding onto him more tightly, and Liam pushes a third finger in him that goes more easily this time. Louis’ eyes are wide and he sobs out a sound like he’s in pain, but Liam can tell from the way he’s moving and the way his cock is twitching that he’s anything but so he continues. 

“You’re so tight,” he grunts and speeds his fingers up a little until the heel of his hand is hitting Louis’ balls and Louis starts shivering. 

“I’m coming,” he moans, “Liam, I’m coming, please, please, I need-” 

“Yes,” Liam hisses; he can feel his own cock now, hard and leaking in his pants, suddenly hyperaware of it with Louis clenching tightly around his fingers. He thrusts harder, tries to tilt them up, and wraps his other hand around Louis’ cock to push him over the edge. 

Louis comes with a hoarse shout, body jerking and nails digging into Liam’s neck, and Liam kisses him and swallows any more sounds he makes, fucking and stroking him through it until he knows that Louis must be sore, trying to move away. 

He pulls out and wipes his hand on the sheets, bites down on Louis’ swollen bottom lip again before sitting back. 

Louis is a mess, his stomach covered in his own release, his hair sticking up, and his hole pink and puffy and _wet_. 

Liam licks his lips and pushes his briefs down to wrap his hand around his own cock. He’s so hard that he almost comes from that alone, the heat shiny and slick with precome. 

“Look at me,” he groans and starts stroking himself, tracing his free hand up Louis’ inner thigh. Louis does, holding his gaze, eyes clouded, and Liam leans in closer, looking down at the mess he’s made of Louis, at his own cock, thick and almost purple in his hand. 

His orgasm hits him hard and fast, and he comes over Louis’ thigh and his crack and hole, his back stiffening from the intensity. He blanks out and collapses on top of Louis, who wraps his arms around him, trying to press closer until Liam hauls him in, holding him tightly. 

It takes a few seconds for the rush to pass, for Liam’s head to clear, and when it does, he feels like he can breathe again; Louis is cradled against him, sticky and sweaty but obviously happy, smiling up at Liam. 

They kiss again, but this time it’s gentle and exploring, learning each other’s quirks, and Liam lets Louis lead it, sighing into it.

“Liam,” Louis finally says quietly, “we-” He stops again and cups Liam’s cheek in his hand, shrugging. 

Liam, closes his eyes and buries his face against the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, deep and earthy and sharp. “Tomorrow,” he replies. “Tomorrow.”

*

He’s already awake and in the kitchen putting together breakfast, when Louis finds his way down from upstairs, only in pants, but showered, his hair a little moist when he pressed up against Liam, who’s at the worktop, preparing toast and tea.

“Hi,” Liam says with a smile and Louis wraps his arms around his middle and makes a sound that one might interpret as _good morning_. Liam kisses the top of his head and then grabs the teapot and the plate of toast, setting them on the table. 

“C’mon, Lou,” he says, “grab some mugs, will you?” 

Louis makes another grunting noise, but does as he’s told, tiptoeing to get two mugs from the cabinet, then joins Liam at the table. He looks small, a little tired, but his skin is almost glowing and there’s two big love bites on his neck that Liam only barely remembers putting there. 

“‘s good tea,” Louis says after pouring himself and Liam a cup and taking a sip. He grabs a piece of toast and munches away on it happily, hair falling into his forehead. 

Liam hums in agreement and sips from his cup, then watches Louis’ hand sneak across the table. He entwines their finger gently, rubbing along Louis’ forefinger with his thumb, and then lets go to grab a piece of toast. 

They eat in silence for a while, with Louis singing under his breath while he drinks his tea and reads the newspaper from four days ago. Liam watches him, a little entranced, his chest swelling and full and _happy_. 

He remembers waking up next to Louis, with Louis’ body on his side and curled half around a pillow and half around Liam, his legs thrown over Liam’s calves. He was too hot, his skin like an oven under the covers, but all Liam had wanted to do was stay in bed for a while longer and feel him close.

He sighs and finishes off the last piece of toast, dusting the crumbs off his fingers. “We should talk,” he says, swallowing, and washes the bread down with another sip of tea. Louis face falls for a moment and he sits up, brows furrowing, but Liam shakes his head quickly. “No, no, just-” He puts his cup down and shrugs, trying to find the right words. “About this, what it is, and what it is for us.” 

Louis is still looking at him like he was hit with a brick, and maybe Liam realises, it wasn’t quite fair to surprise him like that right after getting up, before he’s even properly awake. “What do you mean?” he asks after a moment, eyes narrow. 

“I want this,” Liam says slowly, then reaches out over the table again. Louis stares for a moment, then deflates a little and takes his hand again. Liam searches his face for a moment, tries to remember all the words he’s thought up while in the shower half an hour ago, when he was brewing water, right before Louis came down. “All of it,” he eventually says. 

Louis nods, half a smile on his face, like he’s amused. “Me too,” he says. “You should know that by now.” 

Liam meets and holds his gaze, then squeezes his hand. “I want to do the things we do,” he explains, suddenly growing nervous. “I want to be with you. But that also means a lot of other things, things that are important to me.” He stops and shrugs, feeling helpless for a moment. “I like _owning_ you.”

Louis tilts his head and makes a huffy sound. “I _know_ ,” he replies. “I’m not twelve, okay? I know it’s all part of- part of the package deal with you, I suppose.” 

Liam rubs over his hand again, nodding. “It’s not all up to me,” he explains. “You have a say, too. I want you to agree to all this, and to give yourself to me, Lou.” There’s a part of him that’s afraid that Louis is going to say no, to back out again because it’s suddenly too intense and too much, and he tries to quieten it down. “There’s a lot more to it than me choking you or having you kneel.” 

Louis stares for a heartbeat, then nods. “I know. I read about it.” He moves his hand, pushes his fingers between Liam’s. 

“Okay,” Liam says. He taps his fingers against the table, deliberating for a moment and repeating the words in his head before saying them out loud. “But this isn’t only up to me. You have to agree to it, too. I want us to be in this together.” 

Louis nods slowly, rolls his shoulders like he's shrugging something off. "I want that as well." 

"Take your time," Liam replies carefully. "I just. This is a big decision, I don't want you to rush into it.” He really doesn’t; he doesn’t want Louis to jump into something head over heels like he’s prone to, to not take his time to think about the finer points. He wants Louis to be in this with his heart _and_ his brain. He’s scared if he isn’t that after a month or two, when Liam starts wanting to push for more, that Louis will realise this isn’t for him after all. “Think it through.” The truth is also that they were very drunk the night before and Liam needs to be certain.

Louis makes a little sound and nudges Liam’s foot under the table with his own. “You sound like you’re trying to talk me out of this, Li,” he says, lips curving into half a smile. 

Liam shakes his head quickly, nudges back. “No, just-”

“Alright,” Louis cuts him off, business-like for a moment before his voice softens down again, “I did promise to go to Lottie’s school thing. Would you watch the house?”

Liam feels his brows quirk for a moment because he expected he’d be the one giving Louis his space for a day or two; the prospect of staying behind and waiting makes him almost uneasy. He nods anyway and then tries to go for a smile. “I suppose I will be waiting for you to come home, then?”

Louis smiles back and ducks his head. “I suppose,” he replies, looking up at Liam from under his lashes.

*

Liam spends the day tidying up, messing around on Twitter and answering fan questions. He cooks himself a fry-up for lunch and eats hunched over his computer, scrolling through replies. Louis posted a tweet a few hours ago, a picture of the sky without a caption or a joke, which is very unlike him, and there’s fans asking Liam if Louis is on his way home or where he’s going. Liam ignores them, and then, to keep himself busy and occupied, decides to do a Twitcam. It doesn’t last very long because the connection is shitty as always, but he manages to answer a few questions and shows off his new comicbook T-shirts until it cuts him off.

Without himself talking, the house is suddenly very empty and very quiet, and Liam wanders around for a few minutes, before he finds himself in Louis’ bedroom, tracing the rumpled sheets. It smells like sex in here and like Louis, and Liam lies down on the bed with his face in a pillow and inhales the scent, heart beating strong and hard. 

He’d never been all that patient as a child, not for Christmas presents or for birthdays or for other exciting things - but growing up he learned to contain himself a little. He can’t remember having been this impatient for something in a long time, itchy and almost anxious for the front door to open and Louis to come back home. 

Louis hasn’t texted or called, he hasn’t given Liam a single hint, and now that he’s here in his bed with the memories from last night returning vividly, it makes his heart ache. 

He rolls onto his back and then gets back up and pads downstairs again, nervous. The sun is starting to set, the light in the living room orange and red and soft, and there is still no message on his phone when he picks it up from where it’s been sitting on the kitchen table. He cooks noodles for dinner and then puts in a film, folded up on the couch with a pillow to hold on to. 

Liam falls asleep somewhere between the middle and the end, dozes off to the sound of explosions and collisions and shouting, his head tipped back. He half-wakes a few times only to find a more comfortable position, until much later when there’s nothing on the telly but the blue and white logo of the DVD-player and it’s dark in the living room except for the light from the screen. 

He wakes up suddenly like from a bad dream, and is disoriented for long enough to feel queasy when he does come back properly. It’s only when there’s a sound from the hall that Liam realises that it was also a sound that woke him up. 

He sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, stumbling out into the hall, where Louis is sneaking in, tiptoeing in his socks and trying not to make a sound. 

He looks very tired and his beanie is a little askew; he smiles when he sees Liam, but then frowns. “I didn’t want to wake you up, was I loud?” he asks, and Liam shakes his head and takes the few steps between them in a stride to wrap his arms around Louis’ body and pull him in. 

There’s no resistance and Louis drops his bag and hugs him back, burying against him so Liam can rest his chin on his head and hold him tightly. “You’re so late,” he says finally when he remembers what words are and that he’s supposed to use them. 

“I know, I know,” Louis mumbles back, quiet and muffled by Liam’s t-shirt. “The play was really long. It was really nice. They put on a big show for me, and then there were all her friends and they wanted to hang out with me for a bit.” He shuffles closer and Liam squeezes his shoulders a little, smiling, imagining Louis sitting in the midst of a gaggle of teenage girls, laughing and telling stories. Louis pulls away after a moment and, using his hand on Liam’s chest as leverage, leans up to kiss him.

It’s sweet and soft, a kiss to say _hello_ , but Liam feels himself melt into it, kissing back gently. 

“C’mon,” he says and starts stirring Louis toward the kitchen. “Lets get some tea into you.”

Louis follows but stops at the door, tugging on Liam’s sleeve. “Liam, do you even know what time it is?” he asks, sounding amused. 

Liam shrugs and then looks up at the clock over the fridge which tells him that it’s past one already, that Louis drove through the night to get here. “It’s late,” he says dumbly. 

“Yeah.” Louis shifts a little, tugs again. “Li.” He walks his fingers up Liam’s arm to the neck of his T-shirt and pulls him closer until Liam has to clean down, their foreheads and noses pressed together. “I don’t want tea,” Louis continues. He’s staring up, not a challenge in his eyes, but a question, expectant and waiting. 

Liam exhales and realises that he’s been holding his breath, feels that tugging at his heart again, that’s pulling him closer to Louis. He clears his throat and slides his hand over Louis’ stomach, around his flank to his back to cover the small of his back. “What do you want?” he asks quietly, voice a bit more hoarse than he thought it’d be. 

“This,” Louis says, leaning into Liam’s touch. It felt almost awkward a moment before because Liam has been anxious, but now they fall back into each other so easily and so quickly. 

Liam leans in further and brushes their lips together. “We’ll be setting up boundaries,” he says. “See what you’re into and what you’re not.” He stops and increases the pressure from his hand on Louis’ back until they’re pressed together. “I like pushing limits. I want to push _your_ limits.”

Louis nods, audibly swallows, and Liam continues, “All kinds of limits, not only sexually.” Louis shudders out a breath and arches against him, like his body is saying yes before his mind has caught up. 

“Yeah?” Liam asks again, just to make sure.

Louis nods, ghosting his hand over Liam’s shoulder, rubbing his neck. “Yeah. Yes. Really. Yes.” 

He smiles and then laughs, and the sound of it is so exhilarating that Liam dives down and kisses him again, more forceful this time, biting at his lips until he opens up and Liam can lick into his mouth and deepen the kiss. He moans softly and tilts his head up, his back curving against Liam's hand, and Liam frames his hip with his other hand to keep him still and hold him in place. 

He nudges his nose against Louis' again and sucks at his bottom lip, then pulls away and traces it with his tongue, makes it wet and shiny and coaxes Louis to part his lips. He cups his arse in his hand and squeezes, once, twice, not gently to make sure that Louis feels it through his jeans. It’s full and round and feels good in Liam's hand, even better when he's sober and it’s his to take. 

He starts walking them into the living room, then halts when Louis bumps into the couch table and laughs against Liam’s mouth; Liam spins them around and pulls Louis along, toward the stairs, careful now to avoid any further collisions. He pulls away to catch his breath and decides that there’s no way to make it up the stairs without tripping, if he doesn’t let go of Louis. 

“Up,” he says and tugs Louis up the first step by his wrist, guiding him ahead. Louis turns around and gives him a coy look, then a little smile and bursts into a sprint up the stairs that leaves Liam baffled for a split second until he gives chase, sprinting up the stairs. Louis is fast and he reaches the top before Liam has caught up, his heart racing from excitement, but gets held up by the closed bedroom door. 

Liam growls and catches him around the waist, shoulders the door open and none too gently pushes Louis inside to grasp his wrist and spin him. Louis gasps and missteps once as Liam frogwalks him into the room, but his breathing is uneven, fast, and he tilts his head back when Liam bites his neck and leaves another mark to join the others there. 

Louis moans and goes willingly, obediently raising his arms over his head when Liam starts stripping him, pulling his T-shirt over his head and unfastening his flies. His skin is as hot as Liam remembers and he pushes a little until Louis drops onto the bed and wiggles out of his jeans. He sinks back against the sheets, propped up on his elbows, his chest rising and falling. 

“Pants,” Liam says and Louis complies immediately, getting up to take them off, showing off but not teasing. He turns around for a moment like he knows Liam wants to see, but doesn’t touch himself or move, and Liam exhales slowly, feeling himself grow hard at the image. 

He strips quickly, forces himself to fold his clothes up properly before placing them on the armchair by the window, and keeps his eyes trained on Louis who’s still standing motionless and breathing hard. It’s a gorgeous image, powerful and perfect, because Liam knows that Louis is waiting for Liam - for instruction and order and for Liam to take action. 

Liam walks around him once, taking it in, and then comes up behind him and presses his chest to Louis’ back and fits his half-hard cock between his cheeks, mouthing at his neck. “I like it when I can look at you,” he murmurs and Louis shivers and sighs heavily, like he’s just started breathing again, and rocks back against Liam. Liam drags his hands up Louis’ chest and rubs his palms over his nipples, feels them stiffen under his touch, and Louis moans again and drops his head back against Liam’s shoulder, rolling his hips. 

Liam continues, lets his nipples catch between his fingers and tweaks lightly at first, eyes roaming down the line of Louis’ body to watch his cock grow hard. He tweaks again, harder this time, and Louis gasps and his cock continues fattening up, filling against his stomach. 

“Like this?” Liam asks; he pinches one nipple between his forefinger and thumb, squeezing and tugging until Louis tries to both pull away and arch up for more, his eyes shut, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. 

He nods frantically and Liam moves on to the other nipple, repeating, until Louis makes a sound, small and choked in the back of his throat. Liam kisses his shoulder again and then his neck, scraping his nails, and reaches down to wrap his hand around his cock and tug at it until it’s fully hard. He gives it a few good strokes, Louis’ skin soft and heated under his hands, watches the head grow shiny, beads of precome pearling up. 

“Liam,” Louis moans. He tries to move up and get more friction, but Liam keeps him still with a hand over his waist and chest. “No,” says and speeds up, moving his hand faster. Louis starts going tense, breath coming in short bursts, and Liam lets go and steps away, placing his hand in the middle of Louis’ back and starts walking them toward the bathroom. He looks a little frustrated when Liam flicks the light switch and meets his eyes in the mirror, but leans into it when Liam kisses him. 

“You tease,” Louis pouts into it, and Liam rolls his eyes and ushers them into the shower stall where he turns on the water and reaches for the shower gel. 

“Only as much as necessary,” he replies and squeezes a reasonable amount into his hand, and starts rubbing his hands over Louis’ body, soaping him up thoroughly. “This is tame.” 

Louis groans and tightens his grip on Liam’s arm, but steps under the stream to wash it all off when Liam gives his arse a little pat. Liam repeats the procedure on himself, avoids touching his cock, which is begging for attention, and then steps out again to grab two towels and rub both of them dry. 

“Bed?” Louis asks hopefully when his damp hair is smoothed back, and Liam nods, then reaches down to pinch Louis’ stomach again. Louis squeaks and grabs at Liam’s wrist, and they chase each other’s hands for a moment until Liam gets hold of both of Louis’ wrists and hauls him up, holding him in place. 

“You want me to take you to bed?” he asks, and Louis nods, cheeks red. 

“Please.” He rattles at Liam’s grasp, but gives up quickly, and Liam lets him down and allows him to lead them back into the bedroom where he pulls him close again for another kiss, that he tries his best to keep teasing and light.

When it ends, Louis bites at his bottom lip, defiant, and pulls them both down onto the bed, wrapping his legs around Liam’s waist. He rocks up, his cock hard against Liam’s stomach, brushing Liam’s dick, until Liam grabs his hips and holds him down to make him stay still. 

“Be good,” he says, but can’t help but smile. They kiss again until Liam murmurs into it, “I want you to come when I tell you to. When I let you, yeah?” 

Louis nods, strokes his hands up Liam’s back, scraping his nails slightly. “Yeah, okay,” he replies. He looks so earnest and turned on that Liam almost wants to get him off as a reward for being so willing, but he holds back and sits up, moving Louis up the bed by his hips, pushing bit by bit and following on his knees. 

Looking down at Louis, all spread out, drawing his knees up to expose himself, Liam almost wants to ask him again if he’s really sure, if he’s absolutely certain, but Louis meets his eyes and then closes them, tilting his head back against the pillow, waiting and trusting. Liam ducks down and kisses Louis’ knee, rubs his calf and realises that he there’s nothing left that he needs to make sure of. 

He bends over the side of the bed and fishes for the tube of lube under the bed, finding it after only a few tries of feeling around aimlessly. Louis is still waiting, his hands on his knees, cock standing up. Liam can’t see further at the angle Louis is lying, so he pokes at his thigh. 

“Show me,” he says and reaches down to rub over Louis’ hole. “I’d like to see.” 

Louis grunts, an embarrassed sound, but shifts his hips up until Liam can make out the little, pink pucker of muscle. He presses his thumb down and then hears Louis gasp and moan, does it again. He licks his thumb and rubs over it again, wiggling in and pulling out. 

“Before yesterday,” he starts, “have you done that to yourself? Ever?” He wasn’t really thinking about it last night with Louis sprawled under him and his body practically begging for his fingers, swallowing him up. Now, noticing how tight Louis actually is, realisation hits him quite suddenly, and he wonders stupidly why he didn’t notice yesterday. 

Louis shifts up, moves his legs a little, and then both nods and shakes his head. “Sort of,” he finally says, still breathing hard, “never three.” 

Liam hums and wiggles his thumb, pressing in a little. Louis moans and rocks against it, his breath hitching. His right hand falls from his knee to the sheets and curls up there, holding on. “But you liked it, yeah?” Liam asks. He knows Louis did, but he wants to hear it, he wants him to say it. 

Louis nods and bites his lip. “I did, I did-” he gasps. He spreads his legs more like he’s offering himself, and Liam crawls over him, still rubbing at his hole, and kisses his chin, then his lips. 

“I want to fuck you,” he says and Louis nods quickly, which surprises Liam for a moment. “You want that?” he asks, nudging his thumb further inside. 

Louis’ mouth opens, slack, and finally he groans, “Yes, I’ve though about it, really-”

Liam groans and pulls away to sit up, then grabs Louis’ hip and tries to move him. “Turn over, Lou.” Louis grunts a bit and goes with it, flopping down on his belly, his chin cushioned by his arms. He twitches when Liam slides his hands up the underside of his thighs and wiggles up when Liam cups his arse and squeezes. 

He pulls his cheeks apart to look, finding his hole, pink and a little shiny from saliva. Louis’ body seems to be buzzing, muscles tense, the jut of his shoulder blades sharp under his skin. The thought that he’s willing to give that to Liam, to let Liam own him like that, makes Liam breathless. 

Louis jerks again when Liam ghosts a finger over his hole and Liam quirks a brow and slaps his arse cheek lightly, once, twice, the fingers of his left digging into the soft flesh to keep Louis in place. “Stay still,” he says and Louis takes a shuddery breath, which he seems to hold until Liam uses a little more force the third time when his hand comes down, and Louis releases the breath in a long, shuddery whine. 

He repeats and then again on the other cheek, watches Louis fist his hand into the pillow, the skin turning red, but stops when Louis starts rubbing down against the mattress, clearly intent on getting himself off. He pinches his skin between his fingers and Louis yelps. “What did I tell you?” Liam asks and pinches again and Louis hides against his arms, mumbling, “Not to come ‘til you let me.” He turns his head a little and shows Liam a little pout, his cheeks heated and forehead already shiny with sweat. 

“That’s right,” Liam says. “Now stay still.” He contemplates for a moment and then uses both his thumbs to pull Louis’ cheeks apart again, baring him open. Louis shifts his hips up a little, spreads his knees further, and Liam leans in and noses at the dip of his spine, kisses the dimples there, and trails further down until his mouth is ghosting over Louis’ crack and his hole. 

Louis moans loudly, half a laugh like he didn’t expect this, and Liam grins, pleased, and flicks his tongue out and teases the tip over the puckered ring. When Louis chokes out another sound, he drags the flat of his tongue over it, getting it wet and slick until he can wiggle inside. 

Louis is growing louder, trying to move, and his hole tightens around Liam’s tongue, pulling him in. The muscles in Louis’ back tense up and Liam tightens his grip on his hips and withdraws his tongue, only to repeat again, licking and teasing into his hole until he can feel it relax, until Louis’ voice grows hoarse and loud and broken. 

He pulls away and presses a kiss to it, then sucks at it and licks inside again, allowing Louis to roll his hips against him and ride his tongue, and then pulls out to lick at it flatly again, trying to catch his breath, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Ah,” Louis moans and again, and Liam sucks his forefinger into his mouth and then worms it inside, slick with spit, and thrusts in and then withdraws again. He licks around it, getting it wetter, and Louis whines, hips twitching until Liam pulls out again. 

“Liam, Liam-” he groans and Liam blindly fumbles for the tube of lube and sits back, lifting Louis’ hips up and turning him around. He wants to see his face, wants to see when he comes apart and make sure he’s there with him. Louis helps along, lying back down, and wraps his legs loosely around Liam’s middle, his cock against his hip very dark and hard. 

“Have you done this before?” Louis asks when Liam uncaps the lube and squeezes some into his hand, coating his fingers, and Liam nods slowly, watching it spread slickly. 

He looks up and meets Louis’ face, trying to read it, and then replies, “On girls, yeah. Same basic principle.” He finds Louis’ hole with his finger again and pushes inside, feels it go easier this time than the times before. Louis arches into it, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and pulls one knee up to allow Liam better access. 

Liam presses a second finger in slowly and then starts fucking him with both, feeling him loosening up a bit. He’s responsive and almost needy, spreading his legs more, and Liam groans and cups his own cock, squeezing the base to hold back. 

“Like this?” he grunts and wiggles his fingers, speeding up a little and Louis tilts his head back, rasping out a moan. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathes out, “please, Li, faster-”

Liam moans in response and picks up the pace once more; he adds a third finger after a few thrusts, fitting it inside, feeling Louis stretch and accommodate around him, his body getting used to it. “Tell me when,” he manages, thrusting hard, thumb and little finger brushing Louis’ balls, his fingers buried deep. He wants to be inside Louis _now_ , wants to feel him and own him, and his cock grows harder at the thought. 

Louis whines again and then reaches down and grabs his cock. For a moment, Liam almost stops in response, but Louis wraps his fingers around the base and squeezes, throat working fast. 

“You could come from this?” Liam asks in awe, and Louis laughs roughly and lets go of his cock again, nodding finally. 

“I need it, please,” he presses out and the urgency in his voice makes the last of Liam’s self-restraint crumble. He withdraws his fingers and crawls over Louis’ body first to kiss him and then to rummage in the bedside table, his own fingers shaking a little. 

“Condom?” he asks and sighs when Louis’ hands slide over his shoulders and chest, down to his cock to cup it and stroke it gently. “Lou.”

“First drawer,” Louis replies and kisses his throat. Liam finds a strip after a second and rips one off. He sits back against his heels and watches Louis’ hands on his cock, pushing up into them, and then brushes them off before it’s too late. 

He takes hold of his cock and rubs the head between Louis’ cheeks, wanting to feel skin against skin. Louis makes a desperate sound and opens his legs more, thighs bent and knees touching the sheets, and Liam grits his teeth and rips the condom open. He rolls it on, eyes closed and trying to focus, and then nudges the crown of his cock over Louis’ hole, lets it catch. He braces himself on his arms and Louis reaches down and uses two fingers as a frame for Liam to push inside. 

They keep eye contact, breathing hard, their lips almost touching, and Liam pumps inside with tiny thrusts until he’s fully sheathed, Louis’ body hot around him. He drops his head down on Louis’ shoulder, breathing deeply to regain himself, his head swimming, hips twitching on their own.

“You’re so tight,” he groans and noses Louis’ neck, then withdraws and fucks back in. Louis’ hands fly up to cling to Liam’s back, and he sobs out Liam’s name, his voice dark and desperate. 

“Liam,” he breathes out and Liam repeats, pumping into him and using one hand on Louis’ hip to help him match their rhythm up until they’re rocking against each other and it gets easier, slick and faster. 

Louis’ thighs are trembling, shaking, he’s holding onto Liam tightly, and Liam kisses him again, sucking at his lips and fucking into him harder, the muscles in his thighs straining to move his pelvis. 

“Feels so good-” Louis whines into the kiss. His body tightens up around Liam and Liam holds his breath, trying to keep the angle, feels Louis tense up. “Oh,” he moans, “oh god-” 

His dick starts twitching against Liam’s stomach and Liam sits up and locks his eyes with Louis’, thrusting into him faster. “Close?” he asks, speeding up slightly, feeling his own orgasm build. Louis nods frantically, and Liam slides his hand up his shoulder and to his throat, cupping it. He can feel Louis swallow against his hand and then presses down, holding while he pumps into Louis in short little bursts, trying to hit the same angle as before that made Louis’ entire body shake. 

Louis’ eyes go wide, lips parting, and he surges up and freezes, hips coming off the bed. Liam presses his down harder until he knows Louis can’t breathe anymore, and holds it there. He sits up a little and uses the new leverage to thrust in hard and then tweaks Louis’ nipple before dipping down to bite at it. 

Louis shivers and Liam pulls away to watch as his cock twitches, pulsing ripples of come over the head and onto his stomach. His eyes are wide and blank and _gone_ , and Liam lets go of his throat and captures his mouth in a kiss, pushing his tongue between his lips and matching its rhythm to that of his hips. 

Louis goes pliant under him and warm and heat starts spreading up the small of Liam’s spine, setting his nerve endings on fire, electric pulses shooting up through his body; he comes with a loud moan, freezing mid-thrust, hips rolling softly as his orgasm hits him hard. 

He goes blank, white, momentarily, and feels his body collapse against Louis’, feels more than hears Louis’ responding _oof_. When he comes to again, Louis is holding his face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs along his cheeks. 

He looks tired and happy, thoroughly fucked, and leans up to kiss Liam gently before shifting until Liam slips out of him. He winces and nudges his nose against Liam’s cheek, sighing. 

“You good?” Liam asks, and Louis nods and hugs him closer until Liam is nestled between his legs, holding Louis tightly. 

“Very,” Louis answers belatedly with a yawn. He wraps his legs around Liam’s waist and his arms around his chest and back like he’s not going to let go again, and Liam smiles against his neck, heart racing because he doesn’t mind at all. 

“Me too,” he says.

*

Liam wakes up in the very late hours of the night - or very early in the morning - when grey light starts creeping in through the windows; Louis is fast asleep next to him, half on his side and half on his back, and Liam kisses his shoulder and quietly climbs out of bed to go downstairs.

He takes a piss in the downstairs bathroom to not disturb Louis and then sets up a kettle of water, scrolling through his Twitter feed while it heats. It’s quiet and cool in the house, but Liam is oddly aware of Louis asleep upstairs, like the warmth of his body is somehow radiating through concrete and wood. 

When the ‘click’ of the kettle reminds him that the water is done, Liam pours a cup and wanders out into the back garden, sitting on the bench there, sipping his tea. He’s both tired and wide awake and the eery half-light in the garden that washes out all colours, but is bright enough to show every detail, makes everything seem even more surreal. 

There’s a sound from the kitchen when Liam is half-way through his cup, and a moment later, Louis, clad in nothing but a worn, too-big sleeveless top, steps out. He’s smiling dazedly, his hair a mess and standing up, and walks over to where Liam is hitting, setting a cup of tea on the bench. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Liam says back and smiles up at him. 

Louis leans down and pecks his lips, and then sits on the tiles in front of the bench, close enough for Liam to touch. He reaches down and brushes his fingers through Louis’ hair, pleased when Louis leans into the touch. 

Louis looks up at him again and catches his hand, cradling it against his cheek and kissing the inside of Liam’s palm; his eyes are soft, blue even in the grey light. 

“Hey,” Liam says again because suddenly his throat feels tight. He gently traces the sharp angle of Louis’ cheekbone with his thumb, the arch of his lip, the line of his nose, his chest swelling and feeling open and vulnerable and wild.

***

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so thankful to all the wonderful people who helped me make this fic happen. ♥ to [Sadie](http://yetistyles.tumblr.com) without whom this fic wouldn't exist and who held my hand for _seven months_ and did a fantastic beta job, to [Sam](http://dazy-laze.tumblr.com) for the _amazing_ Britpick, [Ayla](http://checkthemargins.tumblr.com) for holding my hand and being encouraging and patient with me and to [Em](http://randominitea.tumblr.com) for her encouragement and late night proof-reading, and to everyone else who held my hand and allowed me to send snippets and encouraged me and put up with me. Thank you all so much ♥
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](http://flimsi.tumblr.com)|[Livejournal](http://flimsy.livejournal.com)


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